


Friends in Low Places

by CavannaRose



Series: Rose Wilson Fics [20]
Category: Batman (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Ravager - Fandom, Red Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Terror Titans (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol, Attraction, Blowjobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Competition, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Flirting, Former Titans, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Hot and Cold, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kissing, Metropolis, Old Friends, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post Battle Hormones, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Qwardian Tech, Rough Kissing, Roughhousing, Showers, Sloppy Makeouts, Slow Burn, goons - Freeform, partnerships, will they won't they
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:36:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 40,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17352176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: When the shiny side of the law needs to get things done, they come slum it with the Wilson girl.





	1. Chapter 1

Metropolis. What a dump. Shiny on the outside, and just as corrupt and decrepit on the inside as any other city, but half as likely to see it. Sure it had the Boy Scout looking out for it, but big folks like him rarely saw what crawled in the underbelly of their homes. After all, what is the ant to the eagle? Inconsequential. Rose sighed, running a hand through her long white hair, settling the wavy locks over her eyepatch, masking her deformity. She was being unfair. If the guy in the sky knew what kind of filth was hiding in his city, he’d probably be the first one down here, dirtying his hands.

That wouldn’t do, so instead, here she was. Someone had been arming the down and dirty with some pretty fancy tech, and the common people were suffering for it. She’d taken on the poor and downtrodden as her own personal mission lately. She’d burned her bridges with her former teammates, the Titans, and the others in the hero world always gave her sideways glances, convinced she was a hop skip and a jump away from running right back into dear old daddy’s warm embrace. What a joke. So she was a bit more mercenary, taking money in exchange for silencing problems, but at least she kept to her own moral standards there.

Okay, standards might have been a generous term. She still had a thing for the slums, and Hank’s was the crown jewel of the area. She could feel her high heeled boots sticking to the floor, hear the rats scampering between falling feet and discarded butts and peanut shells. The place made her feel at home here in a way that high tech towers never could. Running hands over her tight leather pants, she leaned against the bar, letting the man standing opposite her get an eyeful of the cleavage her shirt offered up on display. Distraction, diversion, and doubly effective with the panting Neanderthal. Her hand drifted up, across her chest, to snap her fingers near his face.

“Focus Pete, or I’ll have to put your head through the wall over there, and then Hank will be mad at us both. Kuttler said you have my money, and the information I asked for. Hand them over.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I’m not a patient woman here, Pete.” The man in question swallowed hard, despite having at least a foot of height and a hundred and fifty pounds on the female in front of him. Stuttering apologies he pulled out a thick brown envelope, pushing it across the bar top towards her.

Opening the envelope she quickly shoves a wad of cash down her top, and then flips through an assortment of Polaroids to stop on a carefully marked map. “So Pete, what’s the scuttlebutt around here? I’ve been seeing some pretty boss tech, tech in hands that definitely don’t know how to handle it.” She looked up, pinning the fidgety biker in place with one ice cold blue eye.

“N-not much. Tech pops up all the time, story is this is all coming from one guy though. No one knows where he’s based out of. You don’t find him, he finds you. He shuts up those that talk right quick too.” He backed up a step, the bar the only thing keeping him this close as the Ravager climbed up Rose’s spine and glared out of her one functioning eye. She went from sexy to deadly in the space of a heartbeat.

“Now Pete, you know I have a temper.” She purred, her voice dripping cruelty as she reached out to take his hand, caressing it gently before taking hold of his middle finger with her other hand and wrenching it back with a loud snap. He yelped, and Rose leaned forward making a shushing sound. “Come now, Pete. He might kill you later, but I can kill you right here and now.”

“St. Martin’s! Where the rich nobs live! I heard a rumour that he comes out from that way sometimes!” She leaned forward, watching him flinch as she patted his cheek.

“Good man. Now you best be off to have that looked at. If it’s not set right away, it’ll hurt when it rains.” Rose leaned back, musing over this latest bit of information as the bartender slid a whiskey, straight, down towards her. She sipped slowly at the burning liquid, glance dancing around the bar until it landed on someone who didn’t quite belong there. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, lips curving up on one side. “Well look whose slumming today.”

Tim Drake, the third young man to ever take up the mantle of Robin under the tutelage of the one and only Batman, stepped forward, hands held up and open, signalling he wasn’t here to fight. He offered her a lopsided smile, head titled to one side in a practiced, disarming maneuver. “Hey Rose, buy you a drink?” He crossed the physical distance between them in a few short strides, coming closer to the one-eyed mercenary, still smiling.

Rose slowly ran her gaze up and over her former team mate. From a distance, the lazy perusal might be mistaken as checking him out, he was, after all, a well built male specimen. Those more familiar with the Wilson family and their particular quirks, and this incredibly paranoid Wilson in particular, would know better. Rose was looking for weapons hidden on Drake’s person. She wouldn’t be offended to find them, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be unaware of what they were. She offered Drake the cool echo of a smile, lips barely twitching up at one corner as she eased to the side, indicating the thug’s recently vacated spot with a nod. “I never turn down a drink when someone else is buying.”

She signaled the bartender for another whiskey, her posture clearly indicating that she wouldn’t speak again until she had her glass in her hand as she slid the papers back into their manila envelope. When it arrived, she swirled the amber liquid idly around the dirty glass before knocking it back. Glass upside down on the countertop, she turned to Tim, face impassive. “We’re awfully far from home tonight, little bird. Did Big Daddy Bats finally take off the training wheels, or have we gone rogue?” She ran a finger across the sticky counter, drawing circles in the castaway liquid from untold glasses. She let out a harsh sound, almost a laugh. “You can’t be looking for me, I’ve been such a good girl lately. We’re in capes and tights territory, so I’m on my best behaviour you know.”

Her other hand tightened on the padded envelope, the crackling noise of the paper louder than the volume of her speech. It was too convenient, him being here, now. She didn’t want anyone interfering, not when she was so close. Things like this were best taken care of her way. It was safer for everyone involved. Tucking the parcel into her lap, she finally turned to face Drake fully, giving him a slow, seductive smile. When in doubt, defer, distract, and drop some innuendo. Maybe if she offended him he’d decide she was more trouble than she was worth, which, of course, she was. “Unless of course you want to revisit my offer from way back when, the one you turned down because blondie was such a crybaby.”


	2. Chapter 2

Drake was well behaved, always had been, it was why she used to have so much fun getting under his skin, but something was bothering him, that was clear enough. He didn’t even call her on her bullshit the way he used to. “Going rogue, in a way, I guess. But I was actually looking for you.” He adjusts his position in his seat, clearly unsettled by the sex appeal she was oozing in his direction. He always fell easy for that trick. He shook his head, both to clear it and to turn down her offer. “I need your help. Or maybe just a lead. I busted a gang in Hub City using Qwardian technology. They dropped the name of their supplier. The Armorer. You busted up a guy last month who Metropolis SCU linked to this Armorer. Freddy Han? That ring a bell with you?”

Rose noted his refusal of her offer with a smile, same old Tim. Unlike some of their stupider team mates, he never fell for the bait and switch, it was one of the only reasons she was still sitting here. They were clearly chasing the same target, though as per usual they were coming at it from different angles. He was one of the good guys, so he operated like one. Rose? She wasn’t sure what she was, but she was more comfortable slogging through the refuse with the rest of the garbage. She considered it all, one hand idly drifting down to her pocket where the very last of her adrenaline inhalers weighed heavy on her conscience. She’d broken the habit, but still she kept one on hand like a security blanket. You never knew when you’d need a flash of insight to break a case.

With Drake’s resources, she wouldn’t need the crutch. Decision made, she lifted the envelope out of her lap and slid it down the counter. “It’s an elaborate set up. The guys that meet the clients only know the brokers, the brokers only know the distributors, and so forth. There might be as few as a single person who actually has a visual on the Armorer.” She turned slightly, spitting on the floor in disgust. “I called in a favor with the Calculator for that map, it shows confirmed warehouses for the Armorer’s goods, some snapshots of the goons working the line, but that’s about it. No one higher up. The fiend is a fucking ghost, and even his loyal little henchmen are working on little more than rumours and intimidation tactics. Not a lot of trustworthy Intel to gather from the outside. I’ve been debating infiltration.”

She laughed a bit. “Fucking spy shit, as if I don’t stand out like a sore thumb. Luckily I don’t have the shiny reputation that some of you have, they might take me on merit. Dear old dad’s taint might finally prove useful.” She gestured to Tim. “Of course, with you and your new toys as backup, I could just make a full frontal assault on one of the warehouses. I haven’t seen anyone going in or out with the skills to match me, but I didn’t want to chance it alone.” She flagged the bartender down for another drink, patiently waiting to see what Drake made of the whole situation.

As Tim finally caved to the pressure of the place and ordered himself a drink, Rose tried her best not to tense up. She wasn’t used to working with other people anymore, too much time spent out on her own, visions of Eddie dancing through her brain, and she wasn’t sure if the history she shared with the third Robin was in her favour or against it. Back when they were Titans, she had been so angry inside that she’d gone out of her way to cause trouble, particularly between Tim and Cassie. It had been funny to her, once upon a time, and though she didn’t exactly regret her actions, she knew they hadn’t been appropriate.

Infiltration she could do on her own, that wasn’t a problem, but she didn’t want to go in that way. It took time, resources, and a degree of patience that would strain her mentally. She was a simple woman, preferring simple solutions to problems. Plus, the sooner she got through and broke this shit up, the sooner she got paid, and in the end wasn’t that the bottom line? For a moment she considered telling Drake that it was a paying job, but she hesitated. Her former team mates were an altruistic bunch, and that might work for people with money in the bank, but she had bills to pay.

Biting her lip, Rose flagged down the bartender for yet another whiskey, relying on the serum pumping through her veins to work it out of her system before she needed to lay down the law with the next scumbag. She wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but she was nervous. About Tim fucking Drake. She thought she’d outgrown her desperate need for acceptance, but there it was when she least expected or wanted it, turning up like the proverbial bad penny. She scowled, wishing that her former team mate would hurry up and make a decision, one way or another as the drinks were brought out.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one who felt they had something to prove, she watched Tim choke back the cheap liquor, eyes watering and a barely controlled cough, and she laughed. Real amusement tugged her lips into a half-smile, eyes sparkling. For Rose it was a rare, unguarded expression, and she quickly wiped it away, returning her features to neutral as she gave Drake a heavy thump on the back with her fist. “Good grief, birdie. I know it’s no Dom Pérignon at the big guy’s place, but surely a little bottom of the barrel won’t kill you?”

She waited for him to catch his breath, finally answering her question. “Of the two, options you’ve outlined, I think raiding one of his warehouses has the highest risk-reward ratio. I doubt there’s anything he has that the two of us can’t handle” Rose grinned, flattening the map on the bar between the two of them and pointing to the marked locations.

“There’s minor distribution centres in Little Bohemia and Midvale, but from what my sources gave me I’m guessing the main warehouse is here, on St. Martin’s island. A lot of the scumbags think the Armorer himself might work out of that section of the city, though I doubt he’d be that stupid. Traditionally I’d need at least a week for proper surveillance of the neighbourhood if I didn’t want any nasty surprises, maybe rent a room in the general area, but you and I both have seen what these jackasses are dealing in, and I don’t know when they’re sending out their next shipment, I’d hate to miss it, when I have such handy backup just itching to see some action.”


	3. Chapter 3

With the main warehouse on St. Martin’s, the logistical possibilities for the Armorer were wide open. The Navy Yard, the railways, two small airfields and not to mention the hundreds of delivery trucks on the island are all potential ways to smuggle the weapons in and out unnoticed. The close proximity of the suspected warehouse to the port bore investigation. That’s all the man would need. Find a few unscrupulous ship captains who were willing to add a pallet or two to their manifests, and presto. Tim considers the map carefully, and then turns to Rose. “We could do a drive by, scout the area. Then decide if further surveillance is needed.”

It was funny to think about, but of all the Bat-brats she’d worked with over the years, Drake had the most detective skills, which made him perfect for this mission. Apparently every once in a while karma decided to screw with the status quo and toss her a bone, and Rose wasn’t about to look this gift horse in the mouth. Not yet, anyhow. She nodded, pushing back from the bar to give her former team mate another slow look over. “Sounds good. You’re dressed plain enough to ride bitch, and my bike’s out back. We’ll drive by tonight, just a pair of hooligans post-party. Given that few know who you are, you won’t be noticed, and me?” She gave a shark-like grin, “Most folks out that way won’t stop to ask me questions.”

Over the years she’d alternated between lamenting her reputation, and indulging in it. Regardless of her own personal opinions, being the daughter of Deathstroke the Terminator meant people viewed you in a certain way. She was his only living offspring, the only one who had worked with him and then walked away, relatively unharmed. That alone made most folks back off, but not Drake, not tonight. Whatever was out there, he was willing to have a known killer at his back, and she wouldn’t give him a chance to back out. He might have been digging into this deal, but it was her case, and she had some high profile cash hinging on what she found.

She pulled the wad of cash from her bra and peeled off two twenties, pushing them across the bar top to pay off her tab. She held up a third, waiting until she had the bartender’s full attention. “Your silence, as always, is appreciated.” She added it to the pile and all three bills were frittered away, a stiff nod from the individual behind the counter before they stepped away. Turning, Rose gestured towards the back of the bar. “I’m parked in the alley. Let’s get this look over with so we can move forward with the plan. I’m itching for a fight.”

She lead Tim down a dingy hall, the overhead bulb smashed and never replaced cloaking the place in a depressing darkness. Two doors were to the right, one to the left. The two doors leading to whatever serves as restrooms in this place gave off a smell that turned the stomach. The sound of running, splashing water came from the closest, a rhythmic thumping from the further one. The door to the left, warped from being kicked in one too many times, now reinforced, was held shut by a solid keyed padlock. Drake shook his head as they walked through the open door at the very end. Rose turned to slam it shut behind them, hip checking it to make sure it locked. Then gestured to her bike. Tim whistled appreciatively, warming her insides. “Nice ride.”

Rose strode purposely over to her bike, running a hand almost lovingly across the leather of the seat. It was detailed in black and chrome, with a streak of bright orange down the side. “The Kawasaki Ninja ZX-11, 2001 model. She doesn’t have the power of the H2R, but she’s been good to me. Wicked fast and the parts are cheap if she breaks down. With another gentle caress she pulls two small helmets from the saddlebags, tossing the orange one to Drake while fixing the black one on her own head. “I bought her second hand off some idiot suburbanite who hadn’t a clue what he was giving up. She’s gotten me through some sticky situations. I’m glad you approve.”

Mounting the bike she revved the engine, turning to quirk an eyebrow at Tim, as if daring him to comment. “Well, Wonder Boy, you ready for the ride of your life? We’re going to break some serious speed limits tonight.” With a sardonic smile, he mounts the bike behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. She can tell by the tension in his muscles that he recognizes the power play she was making, with the bright helmet and the riding bitch. Smart boy, though, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t protest. Rose allows herself a smile, since he can’t see it.

“Good to go.” Drake yells over the sound of the bike, nearly deafening her as the Bluetooth com links pick up his voice and feed the sound directly into her ears. She winces, and the clever lad figures out what happens, hands clenching momentarily over her abdomen as he ducks his head in repentance. “Sorry about that.”

Rose was in a forgiving mood, and she simply laughed as she revved the engine, peeling out of the alley and onto the crossroad. She hadn’t been kidding about the speed limits. Tim held on tight, grasping her waist like a hot, muscular seat belt. The rundown and burnt out buildings of Suicide Slum whirled by them, a kaleidoscope of grey and brown as she maneuvered through the late night traffic. They zoomed past Metropolis University, heading toward Midtown. Tim spotted a cop up ahead, and pointed it out, she’d already seen them, but murmured a quiet gratitude before cutting over a street and continuing parallel to Main Street for a few blocks before cutting back. No sense ruining his gesture.

Traffic was lighter this late and they hit the tunnel toward St. Martin’s, doing over 80 MPH. The darkness of the night faded quickly, replaced by the bright halogen light in the tunnel. Rose swerved between cars, using all three lanes as if she was entitled to them. Drake’s tight hold relaxed a bit as he settled into the ride, trusting her ability to handle both her bike, and the vehicles around them. A small warm feeling pooled in her stomach at the show of trust, but she pushed it aside. They were working together towards different goals that happened to lay in the same direction, she’d best remember that. She knew that part of her missed this, out there working alone. The trading of subtle barbs, the give and take between her and another person. She'd been witty, once upon a time, back before necessity and her abrasive personality had driven everyone away. It was better that way, safer for them, and simpler for her whenever dear old dad swung back through her life. He was too overpowering for her to resist, and she always went back, in the end. She was too weak not to.

She shook that dismal imagery from her head, focusing on the here and now. Tim Drake was on the back of her bike, and she was trying to think of how to perfectly capture the moment. It was too perfect not to imagine over and over again. She would dust it off and think about it late at night when she was alone, again. She closed her eye for a moment, driving the darkness back into her center where it belonged. She wanted to be here, in the moment, with warm, muscular arms wrapped around her waist. She liked the way it pinched her scabbards against her sides. He was warm behind her, though not as warm as Eddie had been. No one was as warm as Eddie. She shivered, thinking back to the Tower so long ago. She'd been a different person back then, softer than she was now. She'd played amidst those children like it was spring break. They hadn't trusted her, hadn't wanted her, and so she made them dance to her tune. She'd flirted and teased, made them want her until the moment she flung it back at them, rejected them like they had rejected her with their distrustful stares and muttered insults. She pushed that all aside, allowing herself to glory in the freedom she only felt on the back of a bike. Here there was no Deathstroke, no Ravager. There was just Rose, and tonight, Tim.


	4. Chapter 4

Pulling up half a block from the Warehouse in question, she parked the bike, sliding off of it and turning to lean against her former team mate. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the armed guards, so she shook her hair over her face to hide her most defining feature and leaned closer to Tim. "That was soooo fun!" Her voice was different, lighter. Almost an octave higher, with a slight valley accent. "I can't believe you let me drive it babe. You don't know how bikes get me hot." She ran her hands down his chest, leaning in close as if she was nibbling on his ear she whispered. "I've clocked two at the door, submachine guns, another on the roof across the street, scope and laser sight. Your turn, Wonder Boy." She nuzzled her nose along his neck, letting out a giggle. "I don't know if I can wait to get to the hotel to show you hoooow much I loved it, babe."

His eyes were already scanning the area as she cozied up to him, and he didn’t seem phased by her coquettish facade. Her body pressed against him, and she thought that maybe they both were thinking of that night. The feel of her fingers on his chest. His hand snaked around, palm resting on the small of her back, pulling her closer. “Awww, Candy-babe.” His voice mimicked that of a sports talk radio host. “I know what riding a bike does to you, it’s why I let you.” Leaning in, he whispered to her. “Laser tripwire along the perimeter. Two more guards with a pit bull just came around the corner.” Tim was a quick study, he always had been and she appreciated it, almost as much as she appreciated the feel of his taut abs as he drew her in closer. The voice was a little much, and she was definitely going to get him for naming her 'Candy', but all was fair in love and war, and this was the best kind of war, the one they were going to win. She hadn't caught the laser tripwire, but the dogs would be way more of a problem, even the drone wasn't that big of a deal with the tech Drake had on hand.

A gentle hum from sounded above them, eyes flicking skyward, they both spotted the drone heading their way. “Eye in the sky, too. Sorry.” He apologized. She was about to say something sharp about his need to control the situation, when he went for it. Titling his head, he leaned in, placing his face between hers and the drone. He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her. He had definitely learned a few things since they'd last been this close. She ran a hand up the back of his neck, lacing her fingers through his hair as she tilted her head, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. She nibbled on his lips, slowly pulling away as she heard the drone cycle off around the other side of the building. "Oh Ethan..." She curled up against his chest, pressing kisses along his jawline. "Four cameras 'round this side, the two by the door are duds though. They're brazen, as if they don't expect anyone to try anything. I say we clear out and map what we've seen." She pulled away, giving a little twirl before stumbling as if she had been drinking. "Oops!" She let out another giggle. "Is the hotel near here? I forgot the address..."

Drake took her cue and moved to catch her. “Candy, baby. Be careful. You want me to drive?” Leaning in, he whispered. “Let’s drive down the left side. Check out the loading docks.” Tim’s eyes swept the area one last time, not seeing anything they might have missed. “It’s the Seaport Plaza.” Dramatically looking around, he pointed east, past the warehouse. “I think it’s like a block or two over there.” She could see the hotel from where they were, and if they could get a top floor room facing away from the water, they would have a good vantage point.

Giggling drunkenly, she wraps her arms around Drake's waist, pausing a moment to appreciate his toned backside. The girls at the tower always claimed Dick had the best backside, but this one was definitely a contender. Giving in to the devilish voice on her shoulder, she helped herself to a friendly handful, in the spirit of the roles they were playing of course. She made a soft cooing sound. "The Seaport Plaza? Ethan you shouldn't have! You sure know how to spoil a girl." She released his waist and sashayed towards her bike, trying to convince herself that Tim couldn't destroy her bike over a distance of two blocks. That beast was her baby, and she was wholeheartedly devoted to it. "The only thing sexier than that engine between my legs would be my sexy babe mastering all that horsepower. Can we drive down by the docks? I want you to see the way the moonlight on the water brings out those new highlights I got at the salon last week."

“Hey, baby. You’re worth it. But you gotta promise you’ll do that thing with your tongue I love.” He grinned, playfully smacking her butt. “You know what I’m talking about.” Oh he was gonna pay for that. Later. Moreso because she enjoyed it. Arms around waists, they drunkenly stumbled over to the bike. He straddled the bike, waiting for her. “We can definitely cruise the waterfront, but I don’t need moonlight for me to see how sexy you are, baby. Hop on.” He patted the seat behind him.

Rose took a deep breath, reminding herself that this was Drake, not Todd. He’d be careful with her baby, she knew he would, but still she gritted her teeth against the urge to order him off the bike so she could take the lead. It was way more believable for him to be driving it than her, the dude bro he was pretending to be wouldn’t have the masculine comfort level to ride bitch for longer than it took to get into ‘Candy’s pants. She feigned clumsiness as she mounted the back of the bike, taking a good five minutes to get herself settled. Other than relinquishing control of her ride, Rose had to admit she was having fun. She enjoyed the excuse to press herself against all of those muscles in the former Robin’s back. She certainly took advantage of the chance to run her hands along his thighs and press her chest closer against him.

“Oooh Ethan,” she murmured, just barely loud enough for any curious bystanders to hear her. “I think your muscles are even bigger now. Maybe I WILL do that tongue thing you like, if you still have your handcuffs…” So maybe it was mean, that callback to the situation at the Tower, but she was having fun, and her voice was light, teasing. Even the façade of Candy’s valley accent couldn’t quite mask a husky undertone that was all Rose. She shouldn’t tease Drake this way, not when they had work to do, not when she wasn’t sure what her intentions were with the dark haired man.

Trailing her hands up along his abdomen, she rested her face against the back of his shoulder, bracing herself for the ride. She whispered into the Bluetooth, unable to repress the smile dancing across her face. “I will absolutely deny it if you ever tell anyone, but this is the most fun I’ve ever had doing reconnaissance. You’re smart, Drake. Now get us the fuck out of here before acting like Candy makes me vomit. If you so much as scratch my bike I will surgically remove your spinal column and return it to you via your asshole.” There. Barriers re-erected, space placed between them. It was fun, the flirting and touching, but she had to remember who she was, what she risked here. There couldn’t be any confusion when it came to her end goal.


	5. Chapter 5

"Don't worry, Rose, I'll take good care of her." Tim throttled up the bike, pushing off, wobbling a little, and even though it was for the guard’s benefit, she was sure that was the reason, Rose tightened her grip, ready to murder Drake for hurting her baby. Quickly straightening out, he steered to the left, driving them along the side of the building. The guards with the dog watched them carefully, indication that they were good, not lazy or comfortable. Increasing speed, they moved past the loading dock, which was unfortunately closed, but they could see there were only two cameras; one for the doors, and one for the dock itself.

The mercenary tilted her helmeted head in that direction, even though her partner couldn’t see. “There's a blind spot there, we might be able to use it to our advantage when we make our move.” Rose murmured into the Bluetooth, a small grin on her face. Drake grunted in acknowledgement, making his own mental notes.

Passing the warehouse, Tim finally opened the bike up, letting them both feel the power of the bike. They cruised by the waterfront on the way to the Seaport Plaza, slowing down slightly to take in the view, before accelerating again to the hotel. Pulling up out front, he braked, setting his feet down. He pulled his helmet off, shaking his head to unflatten his hair. Still staying in bro-dude character. "That's a sweet ride. What's your top speed on her?"

Taking a moment to pull her helmet off, Rose shook out the waves of her hair, running a hand through the tangles, before tucking the helmet into the saddlebags. She ran loving hands over the heated metal of the bike, checking for dings and damage, even though she knew full well that Drake hadn’t hit anything. “My baby has a six speed transmission, and a 1052 cc 4-stroke, 4 cylinder, Double OverHead Cam, liquid-cooled engine. On an open road, good pavement, she can hit 176 miles per hour. It’s the closest feeling to flying you can get with wheels on the ground.” She closed her eye, head tilting back as she relived the last time she’d really gotten the bike to speed. The smile on her face was soft, like the one a woman would greet a lover with.

Sighing, she shook her head again, chasing the mental images away, and refocusing on the present. Taking the saddlebags, she sashayed up to Tim, threading her arm through his and clinging to his bicep with a small, scarred hand. Once more she pulled on the façade of Candy, batting the eyelashes of her single eye at the former Robin. “C’mon Ethan, let’s check in and really get the party started. There’s some things I got in these bags that I just know you’re gonna want to take a look at.” She giggled again, tugging him towards the hotel entrance.

Tim looped his arm around her waist, and they stumbled past the electric sliding door. The lobby was tastefully decorated in beige and aqua. If one didn’t know where they were, you could almost have imagined you had just walked into a resort in the Caribbean. Tableaus of pure white sand decorated the lobby, with a half dozen realistic looking palm trees casting shade from the overhead lights. A sand sculpture of a demure mermaid dominated the center of the lobby.

As they approached the counter, Drake smiled at the male clerk behind the counter. Pulling Rose in for a kiss, he let his hand roam her backside, copping a feel. She permitted it, for the role they were playing, but that was another freebie he was going to have to make up for when they were alone. He was getting far too bold with all this. He pulled away, giving her a playful growl. “Stay right here, babe, I’ll get the room set up.” Slipping his wallet out, he slid something across the counter. “Hey man, checking in. If you could upgrade us to one of the penthouse suites on the backside?” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “My girl likes to see the moon out on the balcony when we’re getting down. Makes her howl.” He chuckles. “Literally. Like she’s a she-wolf.” The clerk glanced up at Rose, checking her out, and it took every ounce of her self control to not smash both their idiotic faces in. “And if anyone, like my fiancé comes looking, I was never here?”

The clerk nodded, pocketing the cash that had been amidst whatever Drake had thrown down, then tapping away at the keyboard. “Mr. Wayne, I don’t have a reservation for you, but we do have rooms available.” Mr. Wayne? Oh… Timmy was being a bad boy indeed.

“Oh, in that case. Can you put me is as Ethan Draper.” Glancing back at Rose, he made finger guns and blew her a kiss.

“Certainly, Mr. Draper.” The clerk gave him a wry smile, finishing up the check-in. Two minutes later, they were stumbling arm in arm, giggling, to the elevator.

She was either going to kill him or kiss him, she hadn’t decided which quite yet. He certainly made the process of getting the room easier than it might have been for Rose. She had a tendency to threaten and bully rather than coerce and bribe, since her funds were generally fairly tight, but he was getting awfully bold with the hands and the kisses. Of course, she had definitely started the hands-on policy, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get bitchy about him reciprocating… right? Fuck, she was no good at actually getting along with someone, maybe she was just looking for something to fight about.

Once the elevator doors closed, she leaned against the mirrored back, eye closed as she worked through her conflicted thoughts. She still had her fingers threaded through Tim’s, and though she wouldn’t admit it even to herself, she enjoyed the warmth and the strength of his hand in hers. She cracked her eye open, lips barely moving as she whispered to him. “How classy is this place? Would they have cameras in the elevator or are we safe for the ride up? I mean, I can keep pawing you if you think it’s necessary, but if I have to let out one more giggle I may actually hurl on those expensive shoes you’re wearing.”

She closed her eye again, the ghost of a smile dancing across her lips. “I see you’re still using Daddybats name to throw your weight around, no matter how you say that you’ve left off working with him. You even used his shtick, the philandering playboy, out to party and have a good time on the town, to distract from the fact that you’re a vigilante by night. I’m not judging, mind, just observing. After all, what am I but a shadow of my own Big Mean Daddy, using his aesthetic and repertoire to do things my own way? Its just funny, how we both worked so hard for independence, but the further we pushed away, the more we ended up like the men who tried to shape us.” She frowned, rubbing the space between her eyebrows where the thread of her eyepatch sat. She was more tired than she thought, and her mouth was wandering as badly as her mind had been tonight.

She was momentarily rescued from Drake being able to respond to her maudlin meandering by the opening of the elevator door. Rose immediately donned her Candy face once more, slipping her hand from Tim’s fingers and wrapping both arms around his neck, her lips turning down in a dramatic pout. “My feet are killing me, Ethan. Carry me to the room?”


	6. Chapter 6

“For you, babe? Anything.” Being in his arms felt weird, but oddly comfortable. Leaning in, he whispered directly into her ear. “I didn’t see anyone follow us into the lobby, did you?” She shook her head no. “We should be safe then.” But he made no move to put her down. “The keycard is in my back pocket, babe.” She stopped short of snorting at the ploy, but with a bit of contorting, she reached the hotel key card, plucking it from his jeans, sliding it through the lock as Tim caught the handle with his knuckles, pushing it down. He kicked the door open, stepping into the room, and Rose had to allow herself a small moment to be impressed. A welcoming wave of cool air from the air conditioning washed over them as they entered the parlor of the suite. The decor was modern, all black and white and glass. The sofa and love seat had black metal frames, with thick white cushions and the coffee table was a giant sheet of glass supported by black marble. A large screen TV and a modern impressionistic painting finished the room.

She let out a low whistle, swinging her legs so that she slid down Drake’s body before extricating herself from his grip. She drifted across the room, fingers trailing across the expensive furnishing, before she withdrew them, giving a harsh bark of laughter at her own expense. Thoughts of a brief seduction were chased away by her own self loathing. The two of them would never be on a level playing field. She dropped the saddlebags at the edge of the couch, wincing at the way the shabby leather looked in the fancy room. “You know, I’ve only been in places this fancy to kill the people paying for them. We come from different worlds in more ways than one, Drake.”

She shook her head, letting her hair fall over her face again as she rubbed the string from her eye patch. The itching was getting bad, probably picked up some salt from the air at the dockside, but she wouldn’t remove it yet, not in front of him. She moved towards the massive windows, placing a scarred hand against the glass. She should be examining the warehouse from their new vantage point, but instead she took a moment to look out over the city. So many souls, so many shades of grey, going about their business. How many of them hid behind masks they would never admit to wearing? At least she was honest about the ones she hid behind.

Working with Tim had probably been a bad idea, it brought back too many memories, too many old impulses. She wasn’t designed to be part of a team, and she’d exhausted her ability to be nice for one night. Despite the well-meaning folk who had tried to teach her over the years, she had no patience or skill for small talk, no idea how to bridge the gap between her and another person. Frustration and anger welled up within her, lancing through her body from the pit of rage that heated her centre; that drove her every action. Her fingers curled into a fist against the cool window. Finally her gaze drifted over to their target, watching the ant-like figures crawling around on their patrols. There were at least four distinct groups, including the assholes with the dog.

Pushing away she pasted a phony smile on her face, masking her anger as best she could. There was nothing Drake could do about it, it was just part of who she was. Stalking across the room, she reached into the nearest saddlebag and pulled out her Ravager gear. “I’m going to take a shower. Don’t crack the case without me, or do, then I can get back to my life.”

 “Alright. I’ve got to get my gear together too.” Drake responded, tapping something into his watch. Probably some new tech or the other that his rich mentor had passed down to him. Must be nice. All she’d ever gotten from dear old dad was unwanted injections and a hard case of the crazies. As she reached the washroom, he blurted out. “Rose, thank you. For the assistance. I’ve missed having you around.” His cheeks colour with an uncomfortably adorable blush. Having you around? Really? Couldn’t say ‘working with you’?

She cringed mentally, wondering if she had somehow managed to lead him on in some way, then halted herself. Was it leading him on, if she had honestly enjoyed flirting with him? Even when it was just a power move, there had always something appealing about Tim, but she’d been too young and harsh to want anything. The closest she had ever let a person get to her was with Eddie, but he’d rejected her the second she’d shown her weakness, the second she’d shown that she might need him, and that was a mistake she wasn’t willing to make again.

Still, she could throw the guy a bone, couldn’t she? He was helping her get to the bottom of her case, even if it was for his own reasons, and he was being a good guy about it. She stripped slowly out of her clothes, dropping them on the floor by the washroom door, unconcerned by what effect her lack of modesty might have on Drake. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, after all. “Back at you, Wonder Boy. Been fun working with you again.”

She turned and headed into the little tile room, starting the water running. If he noticed anything beyond her aggressively presented curves, it might be that her skin held more scars than it had the last time he’d seen it all exposed. Thick, raised cuts down her back and thighs, thin scars in neat rows of nine across her shoulder blades, the puckered remains of what could only be a third degree burn up one side of her ribs, and a heavy S branded into her stomach, deep and shiny. She’d always lived a hard life, but the last few years had been the worst. She’d suffered as she fought her way through the world of mercenaries that was her only inheritance from her father, and it was worse for her when he insisted she be by his side to do so. She had fought against working with him, and she had suffered the consequences. Even now, she wasn’t free of his reach.

Placing her eye patch carefully on the counter, she slid in under the hot water, letting the pressure beat the negative thoughts out of her head. She wondered if she had offered Tim temptation, or an invitation, and what she would do if he interpreted it as such. She was being impulsive, more like she used to be, and that was dangerous. Impulsive Rose got hurt, impulsive Rose got caught. She traced the S on her abdomen, glad that the water from the shower head hid the tears trickling from the corner of her eye. She had so many bad decisions in her past, and she was more afraid than she’d ever admit to make another one. Reaching for the shampoo, she mentally cursed herself, her father, and the sweet young man who reminded her what she had given up in her pursuit of freedom.


	7. Chapter 7

Drake had looked away, headed out to the balcony. Rose shrugged, barely feeling the subtle sting of rejection as the water pounded into her skin. He’d never taken her up on her offers before, had done his best to avoid them as often as not, so it shouldn’t surprise her that this time was no different. They came from different worlds, she kept having to remind herself. Not just monetarily, but morally too. Drake had had a family once, and then again with Wayne and his collection of assorted foundlings. She’d watched him date, seen what he looked for in a woman. Emotions. Attachment. Closeness. She couldn’t offer anyone that sort of realness. She was all hard edges and scar tissue, with nothing to offer but a few passing moments of pleasure. She stifled a self-deprecating laugh.

Clean, she stepped out of the shower, grabbing her eye patch back on before she even reached for her towel. Of all the marks she bore, that was the one that shamed her the most. She’d earned almost every break and scar fighting, pursuing her future, or struggling for one, but not that one. That one was a testament to how utterly and irrevocably fucked up she was, and would always be. She traced her fingers across the puckered flesh, before angrily tying the patch into place. She was an idiot, always would be, and some people out there could see that truth. Her father always had. With efficiency born of practice, she pulled on her gear, snapping the armored pieces into place and settling the scale mail so that it wouldn’t jangle. Once her sheathes were all properly settled, she finally stepped out of the washroom.

She stood in the door for a moment, watching Drake lay out his gear. A quick scan of the room located the drone he’d summoned to fly his case in, and she clucked her tongue in derision. “You boys and your toys.”

“Says the girl with more weapons on her than the 300 had at Thermopylae.” His rejoinder made her shake her head, amusement rippling across her features.

“I see your wardrobe got an upgrade. I like the new colours, they suit you better.” Rose flashed a crooked grin, her tone light and teasing like before, but lacking the warmth from their ride. She was in business mode now, settling into the calm that allowed her to kill with no remorse. Do the job, complete the objective, and move on. Be the weapon. A weapon carries no guilt. A weapon is forged with a purpose, just as she was. Crossing to her bags, she begins to slide her various accessories into their sheaths. Daggers at her wrists and waist, swords on her back, pistols strapped to her thighs and tucked into the back of her boots. Deft fingers wove her hair into a braid, tucking several small sharp bits of metal that could be used as either stilettos or lock picks.

That completed, she spared a quick glance over to Tim, then checked her pouches. Garrote wire, smoke pellets, ammo clips.  Everything was as it should be. “Well Wonder Boy, you ready for this?” As she continued to prep, he had pulled his sweatshirt off, unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them.

Rose paused, unable to resist inspecting the goods that Drake had put on display. Tit for tat, she assumed, though damn the man had gotten bolder as time went by. The old Tim never would have gone down to his skivvies in her presence. How could she not look? By the time he turned to her, though, she was carefully sharpening one of her daggers, deliberately looking anywhere but at her former team mate. Her face was maybe a little flushed, but that was definitely leftover from the heat of the shower.

She quirked an eyebrow at the fist he held out to her. She knew what a fist bump was, but she was not… clearly her body was being possessed, as she appeared to have dropped the whetstone and her knuckles brushed the edges of Drake’s. “Go Team.” Rose bit out, trying to get control of her wayward appendages. How dare her limbs betray her like that? It had been instinctive, and she was not impressed. Tucking the dagger away, she rolled her eye. “Now that we have affirmed our position as ridiculous teenagers, complete with silly hand gestures, can we get back to the job at hand?”

Crossing to the window, Rose monitored the warehouse for a moment, glaring darkly at her faint reflection in the glass. Get a hold of yourself, Wilson. That life is not for you, not anymore. You made your choices, and regardless of what you think you want, you have to live by them. A hand trails over her arm, tracing the scars hidden by her costume. She remembered how she had earned every one of them, and she felt no shame. She had earned her place in this world with blood and sweat and the tears of her enemies. She was a mercenary. An assassin. A perfect weapon with a job before her.

“Their security is good, not sloppy, which could pose a problem, but there aren’t too many of them. I know you’ve got some new moves, I’ve got a few of my own, but from what I’m seeing we could have taken these fools back when we were kids. They rely on those guns too heavily. None of them have the build of a real fighter. The biggest problem will be the mutts.” She hated when crooks had dogs. They got them all twisted up inside, and there was little you could do but put them down. Still, it sucked to kill dogs, way more than it sucked to kill people. “My armor will keep me clear of the teeth, but they’re strong, and they look hungry.” A small smile crossed her face, and it wasn’t a friendly one. “There’s a good chance that if we draw first blood the dogs will turn on their handlers. Then we don’t have to worry about them, but I wouldn’t count on it.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Are we agreed that when we eliminate the exterior guards, going in through the loading dock is the way to go?” She nodded her assent. “Alright, one of us should take out the sniper. I’m going to suggest me. I can glide down after I take him out and then we take the guards. Door guards first or dogs?”

Rose pursed her lips as she considered Tim’s suggestion. Sending him off to take out the sniper would give her time to do what she did best without offending his precious morals, so she could certainly agree to that. She wasn’t sure where this camaraderie with Drake had originated, but she wasn’t quite ready to throw it all away because they disagreed on who did or did not deserve a sword to the throat. Instead of starting a disagreement, she flashed her pearly whites at the other former Titan. “You know me, Drake. I’m always in for a little chaos, a toss of the dice. I’ll go for the guys with the dogs first, see if I can charm them with some of this animal magnetism.”

She paused, thinking further. “Of course… that’s not a bad idea either. I can hide more than a few blades in very few clothes. We could always wait until the change of the guard and pull a honeypot.” Amusement dances in her eyes. “Oh helpless me, still drunk and in my clubbing gear, lost down by the docks, and my phone is dead! Who but some strong handsome gentlemen could help me call a cab and find my way home?” She placed a dramatic hand against her forehead, giving her voice just a bit of a soft southern drawl as she sprawled against Tim’s chest.

She was not, of course, trying to cop another feel of those rippling abs she’d witnessed moments ago. That would be ridiculous. She was merely testing out alternative options for infiltrating the base. Turning around, she hooked one of her legs around his. “Or I could go blatant, prostitute on the way home from work looking to offer freebies to a gent who caught her eye.” She chuckled, running her fingers along those rather impressive abdominal muscles. So maybe she was copping a feel. Sue her.

There goes their professionalism out the window. Still, she noticed that he couldn’t help but smile. They’d both done some growing in the couple years since they had been teammates. He’d lost some of that youthful idealism that had grated on her nerves, and she’d learned when to play along better. She’d always known how to have fun, but she wasn’t used to him going along with her. She watched with interest as a blush began to tinge his cheeks, much more like the Wonder Boy she knew from before. She was surprised, however, when he slid his hand down her side, copping his own feel. That was… interesting.

 “Yeah, that could work.” He finally answered, dragging both their minds back to her plan. “The damsel in distress, not the prostitute. Less likely to raise suspicion. You’ve got a change of clothes in there?” He nodded to the saddle bags. “My only concern is that leaves you little protection against the dogs. But if you’re good with it, I’m in.”

She gave Tim a small little smile. He was so adorably naïve. “Sweetheart, if you think a hooker down by the docks is less than believable, than I have a bridge to sell you.” Rose chided him, gently for her. It was almost endearing how hard he tried to come off as world-weary, while still projecting such… not innocence, optimism maybe? There was no room for optimism in Rose’s world, it was a hard, cold place. She didn’t want that for Drake.

She dropped the smile, her professional face taking over her features once more as she pulled away from Tim, putting more than just physical space between them. He was on the side of the angels, and he had the heart to match. It wasn’t fair for a monster like her to play with him. She could keep this strictly about the job, and then when they parted he would be none the worse for wear. She’d be fine too, she was used to being on her own, after all. She preferred it, or at least that’s what she told herself late at night. “I don’t mind going without armor around the dogs. If I’m slow enough for them to catch me, I deserve whatever it is I get.”

Rose crossed the room and dug through her saddlebags, pulling out a little black dress, a pair of high heels, one with the heel snapped off, a long red wig, and a half dozen 4.5 in long Bond Arms Backup pistols. Even in her hands they’d look small, but they shot real bullets, and could get close enough to do some real damage. Beside them she dropped a sharpened pair of hair chopsticks, another half-dozen stiletto knives, and more garrote wire. Despite her decision to stop teasing him, she was focused on the job ahead, and barely spared him a thought as she stripped back down to her undergarments, strapping blades and guns to her mostly naked form with electrical tape before sliding on the dress. The garrote wire tucked into her bra, it would be uncomfortable, but she would rather have it accessible than need it and have it left behind.

Dress on, she carefully donned the wig, tucking away her hair, styling it into a disheveled up-do with the chopsticks, half of it tumbling loose to cover her missing eye. Pursing her lips she stalked to the mirror, checking her makeup and the effect. Wetting her fingers, she trailed water across her makeup, dragging some down her cheek to make it look like she had been crying. That done, she returned to Drake. “Well, do I look enough like a hot mess to pull the wool over the eyes of those idiots down there?"


	9. Chapter 9

“I know you're more than capable enough to handle the dogs." He answered, shaking his head. If she was able to feel guilt, she might feel bad about the hot and cold act she kept throwing at him, but guilt was a useless emotion and she had long ago decided to give it up. It was bad for one’s health. Maybe if the mission went well, she would ask him to grab a drink afterwards. She did drinks, she did drinks a lot. There was absolutely nothing of value attached to drinks. No expectations. No emotions. Drinks were safe, and anything done during drinks could be then blamed on the drinks… Rose was overfond of drinks.

The LBD should be classified as a WMD. Something about a little black dress turned off men’s brains, like a proper weapon of mass distraction. Drake took a minute to get his head together enough to answer her, and that made Rose smirk. “Yeah, I think you're good. Looks like Ethan was a moron and pissed you off. I just have to say, he's an idiot. He's lucky to have you." He cleared his throat, bringing the focus back to business, and Rose idly wondered what he was thinking as his gaze ran over her and then away. “The drone can airlift us down, or you can head out the lobby. Your call on that.”

“I’ll head down. I’m sure your little toys are grand, but I don’t want to risk one of those buggers noticing that Candy appeared rather suddenly from way closer than she should have been. She sighed, rubbing under the tie for her eye patch, conveniently hidden under the messy hair. She enjoyed violence, was looking for ward to dishing it out, but something was itching at her, and she wasn’t sure what it was. Her gaze drifted to her saddlebags, fingers clenching slightly. She had an adrenaline inhaler in there, a ‘just in case’ to help her tap into her precognitive abilities. Maybe there was something she was subconsciously picking up that needed to be noted.

She knew it was addiction, way worse than the way she numbed herself with alcohol late at night. Worse because it was killing her. Something about using the ability was tearing her apart, as if the serum Slade had injected into her didn’t quite jive well with what she had naturally. She’d promised Eddie she’d give it up, all those years ago, but her best friend wasn’t here. No one was but her and Drake, and that meant she was entering a possibly lethal situation with someone who had no special abilities beyond a well trained body and a supply of gadgets.

Rose hadn’t noticed that she’d crossed back across the room, hand on the pocket of her saddlebag. Fuck but it was so damn tempting. To be sure, to know ahead of time. Of course, that was assuming that her abilities showed her what they were about to do. Sometimes directing them wasn’t exactly the most effective. She drew out the inhaler, frowning at it before tucking it into her bra. Better to have it and not need it, than to wish she had it while she was out there. She turned and smiled at Tim, but it was Candy’s vapid smile. “Well, time to go get myself into trouble. Hopefully someone will come to my rescue.”

"Makes sense. And coming out of the hotel is perfect cover. You could have been at the bar downstairs or whatever." Keeping his tone light, Drake nodded his head towards her bra where she had stuffed the inhaler. "You expecting trouble?" She didn’t like the way he watched her. As far as she knew, Eddie had never raised his concerns about her and the damn things with anyone else on the team, but Tim was a clever bastard, and Eddie had trusted him. She just hoped her best friend’s loyalty had been to keeping her secrets, even if he had chosen the team over her in the end.

Rose gave a small smile, almost painful in its execution. She’d had so many fights with her best friend about the stupid thing, she was not loaded to fight with Drake over it. Instead, she just shrugged off his question. “Just… a feeling, I guess. The guy we’re going up against has been smart so far, and he’s been careful. His guys seem well trained, and well motivated, and I hate to give up any kind of advantage.” She didn’t even notice when she pulled out the inhaler again, fiddling with it, like one would a small knife, flicking it back and forth across the back of her knuckles with her fingers. “I wish I’d gotten a better look at the weapons his guys were carrying, I’d hate to be bringing knives to an alien gun fight.”

She stilled her fingers, covering the inhaler with her free hand, and struggled against the tinge of colour that heated her cheeks. She refused to be embarrassed, to admit that she was doing something wrong. The nosebleeds weren’t so bad, now that she wasn’t relying on the chemical constantly. She tucked it back away. “It’s probably not necessary, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to have it with me.” She shut up, pressing her lips together. Rose Wilson didn’t explain her actions, not usually. She didn’t know why she felt compelled to do it for Drake, but whatever the reason, she didn’t like it.

Instead she tossed her hair and headed for the door. “It’ll take me a bit to get down there, and I’m going to grab a quick drink first, so that I smell right when I’m hanging all over these jerks. I’m trusting you to be where you said you’re gonna be, Drake. Don’t let me down.” She meant for it to come out light and teasing, to break the tension, but instead the strain of battling her addictions made her tone serious and she mentally cursed. Definitely stop at the bar, fight one demon with another, and the monster can keep bringing the bloodshed.


	10. Chapter 10

After Rose left, Tim ran through his equipment one last time. He waited until he saw Rose stumble out the front door, playing the drunken and distraught damsel. She was loudly berating ‘that no-good jerk, Ethan’ to anyone who would listen. He took off from the balcony, heading across rooftops until he approached where the sniper was set up. The man had his back to Drake, his attention on Rose down below. Gliding down to the roof, he kicked his legs up at the last second, the heels of his boots connecting with the back of the sniper’s head. Tim somersaulted to the side, springing up, but the man was out of cold.

Kicking the sniper rifle away, he quickly gagged the man, zip-tying his arms and legs behind his back. Turning his attention downward, he saw Rose moving towards the warehouse, a touch unsteady on her feet. Grabbing the sniper rifle, he was surprised by how light it felt. No magazine, instead something resembling a lithium battery. Not completely sure the engineering behind it, he field stripped it as best he could, putting parts into one of his pouches. He’d enjoy dissecting those later. Walking to the edge, he leaped off, gliding down towards the warehouse. Off to save the self-rescuing warrior princess.

Rose was having fun with her little masquerade, coming up with more and more outrageous names to call the erstwhile Ethan. She was currently working her way through the alphabet, having passed ‘malformed meathead’ and moving towards ‘No good Neanderthal’. She finally made her approach towards the guards at the front, pausing to adjust her dress, allowing the pair with the dogs to move around the corner. Wobbling a little, broken heel in hand she sashayed up to the nearest man. “Sir, would you be able to help me, sir? That odiferous old ogre I went home with had the nerve to start making up to some skank at the hotel bar! Can you believe it? Now my cell phone is dead, my stupid shoe broke, and if that pitiful pustule thinks I’m staying in his room, he’s as stupid as he is ugly.” She panted, tipping forward a little too far. The goon’s eyes predictably followed her dipping cleavage, but he did step forward to catch her before she fell. “Could you be an angel and call me a cab?” She dropped her voice down, lowering her lashes like a woman who had found herself somewhere that maybe she might like.

The second goon pulled out a phone. “Yeah lady, what service do you use?” Rose straightened, withdrawing the needle-thin blade she had inserted between the ribs of the other man and gently wiping it clean on her dress. Black was a wonder at hiding blood. She turned to the man with the phone as his companion slumped to the ground. “Hey... What the hell?!?!?”

Rose struck quickly, whirling around in a round house kick, bare foot connecting with the man’s temple. He went down and she was immediately on top of him, another thin blade going into his ear. That one she wiped off on his jacket, grey matter had a tendency to stain. She dragged the bodies behind some loose crates, and wobbled her way around the building to find the men with the dogs. She trusted that Drake had caught sight of what was going down, and would move on to the next target.

Rose could have handled these two, and the dogs herself. She knew what her skillset was, and confidence wasn’t the same as ego. Still, she wasn’t unhappy to see Drake dashing around the corner, weapon in hand, drawing the attention of canines and handlers. The men were smart, though, the one dropping the leashes to let the dogs free, slavering maws racing to intercept Tim as he charged. The two guards drew weapons, took stances that looked practiced. The weapon looked like some kind of gun, and Rose felt the cool of concentration settle over her. Her eye flickered from the tableau before her, to the building, to the light fixture hanging above them. She was calculating trajectories, figuring how to best help her temporary partner. Small bullets needed soft targets.

Adrenaline pulsed through her system, and Rose nearly crowed with victory as flashes filled her vision. It felt like minutes, though she knew from experience that the visions took seconds, if they even took that long. Weapon trajectories as bullets and strange blue energy crackled. Locations of crates, filled to the brim with alien tech. A heavily scarred face, laughing. A fist in the dark, a tattoo of an anchor on the back. A bullet heading for her back, her dress unrumpled, shoes missing. She snapped back to hear a gunshot echo in the late night air, ducking instinctively as she rolled to the side. The bullet whizzed past the place she had just been, and she turned to see another pair of guards, one speaking rapidly into a walkie talkie. Fuck.

Since everything was going to shit anyways, she threw back her head, forcing her hair out of her face as she drew two tiny guns from their thigh holsters, coming up into a half crouch as she carefully aimed at the newcomers. The other guards were at her back, dealing with Drake and their dogs, but she had to focus on the new threat first. Simplify the situation. Tiny guns didn’t hold many bullets, but her aim had always been impeccable. Slade would tolerate nothing less. One shot, right through the eye of the dude with the walkie talkie and he collapsed, his device shattering against the ground. A second shot, through the throat of the man with the gun. He had the decency to look surprised as blood burbled up from the tiny hole piercing his jugular.

Rose turned, sliding the single-shot pieces back into their holsters and pulling out a pair of knives. Time to check on Drake and see how he was faring with dogs and crooks alike.


	11. Chapter 11

Two guards, two dogs. Two of them. No sweat. Grabbing the two halves of his Bo staff, Drake used them like Dick wielded his escrima sticks. With his right hand, he landed a solid blow to the head of the first dog. The dog collapsed at his feet. Recovering quickly, he sidestepped, kicking at the second beast, delivering a solid blow to its ribs, sending it past him. Rose winced, feeling sympathy for the poor mutts. It wasn’t like they had any choice, much like when she was working for her father. Tim rolled forward, bringing his bo staff together. She watched his left hand slip into one of his pouches, before a smoke bomb deployed. Now there was nothing to see, just the sounds of carbon and cement striking flesh.

It was clearly time to join the party at the end of the docks. Rose moved forward, as quietly and slowly as she could manage. The smoke bomb was as disorienting to her as it was to the baddies, after all. With only one eye, she had to rely on her other senses. It wouldn’t slow the dogs that much, though. They had all those superior canine abilities to rely on. She heard, rather than saw, the impact as one of the mutts recovered and attacked Drake. Wincing, she stepped into the fray. Coming in low, she rolled in beside her temporary partner and wrapped her arms around the beast that had knocked him over, using her momentum to wrench it off Tim. She wrapped herself tightly around it, keeping herself out of the reach of those slavering jaws. Her arm tightened across its throat, applying a steady pressure, while her legs held it as still as she could manage.

“Come on, pup. This isn’t fun for either of us. Just calm yourself and we can all have a better day.” Just then she winced, feeling teeth digging into her exposed ankle. Apparently the second creature had decided to join the game, and it wasn’t coming in gentle. It worried at her leg, dragging her a couple inches down the dock before she got enough leverage to kick it in the muzzle. “Drake! If you’re not dying, do you think that maybe could you neutralize the second canine? Again?” She tightened her choke hold on the first mutt’s neck, counting as the struggles decreased, and it slowly passed out due to lack of oxygen. She hated to do it, but it was the best she could manage for the critter. She bit her lip, carefully unwrapping herself from around the fuzzy body.

Tim tackled the second dog, managing to get some kind of tie around its muzzle, and then hogtying the poor thing, before repeating the whole show with the men he had taken out earlier. That was when they heard the drone buzzing in. On it in a flash, Drake pulled up some kind of tech panel on his gauntlet, rapidly pressing a series of buttons. “I’m guessing our cover is blown. But I don’t want this opportunity to slip away. You game with storming the place? Go in through the loading dock and fight our past whatever guards are inside?”

Rose shook free of the dog she had put to sleep, regaining her feet with as much grace as she could muster and a half smile. “I never cease to be amazed by you boys and your toys. I’m assuming that the drone isn’t going to be shooting at us or anything so dramatic?” She took hold of the skirt of her dress, ripping a slit almost to her hipbone in it to improve her range of movement. “You know me, Drake. I am always in favour of storming the castle. This sneaking about stuff is for idiotic birds…” She laughed. “Present company excluded.”

She flexed her hands, making sure she hadn’t injured anything, and checked the teeth marks on her ankle. The damage was superficial, nothing that would slow her down, and with her enhanced systems there wouldn’t even be evidence that she had been injured in a day or two, maximum. Sliding a blade and a small pistol from beneath her dress, she offered the former Robin a shit-eating grin to hide the slight wince. Apparently she had managed to bruise her hip as well, probably when she had taken the dive for the mutt. Good thing Wilson’s were bred tough. “Well, Wonder Boy. Let’s show them what we’re made of. Bet I can take out more than you.” Not waiting for a response, she tore off towards the corner, ready to swing around the building and in through the dockside entrance.

Breaking into a sprint, Tim caught up to her, though Rose could see he’d clearly forgotten just how fast she was. “You’re on, loser buys dinner?”

Rose shot a grin back at Drake as he rose to her challenge, surprised enough that she even considered the stakes he had set up. Dinner was nothing, dinner was safe. She was generally a solitary creature, particularly these days, but she could manage an exception for an old team member. "Deal. But I want something better than Big Belly Burger if you're buying, rich boy."

As they reach the loading dock, he motioned for her to slow up. Pulling a batarang from one of his pouches, he flicked a switch on it, hurling it at the corrugated steel door. Pulling her behind the corner, he counted down. “3...2...1...”

BOOM!  The explosion reverberated through the side of the building as a cloud of debris expelled past them. “Boys and their toys.” He smirked, then nodded towards the loading dock. “Ladies first.” When she passed by him, she gave him an affectionate bump of her hip. Boys and their toys indeed. She was more than happy to be the first in the door, and with a deft flick of her hand she embedded her blade in the blaring alarm, silencing it, before drawing a second knife.

They came around the corner, surveying the damage. The tall door, used to house box trucks had blown clear across the warehous, revealing an interior loading dock. Tim leaped up, and charged in, finding the space empty of humans. Another large corrugated door about a dozen feet ahead of him was starting to close. Beyond that, a dozen people were rushing about in a panic. Crates stacked against the walls, and in the distance a conveyor belt ran, some type of rifle spaced evenly on the belt. Tim rushed forward, diving under the closing door. Hurling batarangs as he sprang to his feet on the other side.


	12. Chapter 12

Rose turned once to take it all in, then, dashing after Tim, she grabbed hold of the closing door. With a small muttered curse she flexed the enhanced strength that Slade's serum gave her, she stalled out the motor, yanking the door back open. She grinned at Drake. "I might be low-tech, but I'm useful." She follows his batarangs, ducking around the crooks he pinned to the wall to launch herself at a third. Her legs wrapped around the man's throat, momentum carrying her forward and over. Hands touch the ground as she launches him towards the conveyor belt, scattering weaponry everywhere.

Bouncing back to her feet she offers the room a dangerous grin, beckoning to a man who picked up one of the scattered guns. "C'mon boy, let's dance." She missed Drake’s smile behind her at her banter. As she charged forward, he surveyed the room. Two dozen potential hostiles, mostly techs and assembly workers but a handful of security guards. All of them grabbing weapons.

Tim swung his Bo staff, streaking towards two of the dedicated security staff. Drawing their fire, his body armor hopefully protecting him from any lucky hits. One of the guns, a conventional assault rifle, chattered at him, chewing up the ground, a couple shots coming dangerously close to testing his shin guards as he reached them.

Slamming his staff into the gut of the first of the gunmen, Tim turned to the second gunman just as the energy bolt engulfs him. A feeling like 1000 volts running through his body threatened to take him right out of the fight, but he couldn’t allow that. Gritting his teeth, Drake fought through it, his legs feeling like jelly. The Bo staff swung over his head, coming down hard on the guard, knocking him out. Grabbing a small device off his belt, he dialed it to the EMP setting, and triggered it, hoping it would knock out the alien tech.

Rose watched panic enter the man’s eyes as he turned a dial on the gun to gain no response. Growling she looked over her shoulder at Drake. “Wonder Boy I swear to fuck if you’ve just nuked my new cell phone I’m gonna pummel you after I take out all these bastards.” She stepped forward to engage with her thug, but her brain was on her phone. She couldn’t use systems like the Cloud or whatever, not with Slade out there. Her phone hadn’t been smart, but what it had held was the last photos she had of Eddie. Back before, back when he wasn’t Kid Devil or Red Devil or whatever it was he was going to become before he went and died.

“You’ll be fine. And we can talk later about upgrading it to something more modern.” He completely understood her caution around the devices considering her past, but he’d seen what she was packing. No one carried flip phones anymore. Not even as burners. It was a travesty.

She might not have been listening, though. Maybe there was something crazy in her eye, because the grown ass man she had been stalking towards turned tail and ran, fleeing before the enraged mercenary. In two steps she was up and over the conveyor belt, cornering two other security thugs. She didn’t let her emotions control her actions, the last stint with Slade had finally cured her of that nasty habit, but there was a ruthless grace to her movements as she leapt onto the shoulders of the one man, squeezing the breath out of him with her thighs as she shot the other in the eye with her tiny pistol. He tumbled backwards and the one she was choking stumbled to the ground. When her feet touched the floor she released him, listening to him gasp for air for a moment before reaching forwards and snapping his neck.

Two down, her head went back up, scoping her next target. There. One last security thug, herding the rest of the techs and assembly workers out of the building. She tucked away her tiny pistol, her jaw set with grim determination.

Drake flung a stun grenade at a small group of techs trying to get a crate open. Inside was some kind of nasty looking flail. Even without energy behind it, a lucky hit would definitely hurt or maim. As the grenade exploded, they collapsed comically into the just opened crate. “We can talk about it over dinner, which…” He flung a batarang, knocking out another. “…by my calculations, you’ll be buying if you don’t pick up the slack.” A grin crossed his face.

As Rose approached that last security thug, a firm grip on her blades, Tim’s last statement registered. Calculations… dinner? Fuck. She’d forgotten to keep track, and now she was losing? No way. No how. Couldn’t happen. “Don’t count your Egg McMuffins before they’re cracked, bird boy. I’ll be all caught up in a heartbeat.” At least with Drake’s teasing, he had managed to shake her out of mercenary mode, backing her away from the cold-blooded killer she had been trained to be, and back into her own self.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she tossed a knife at the door way, stopping the flow of techs with a frightened squeak. Grinning again, she bounded over the space between her and the guard. She got in right close, arms up in a defensive stance, which took him off guard. He’d clearly been prepared for a full on offence. She laughed. “What’s the matter, big boy, not ready for this?” One two, she placed quick jabs along his kidneys, dancing back a few steps and dodging as he swung at her with what looked like an over-sized billy stick.

Spinning out of the reach of his blow, she kicked one of the techs out of the way, popping up on the guard’s other side and delivering an open-handed slap to his cheek, stunning him for a minute. She was having fun again, and he clearly had no idea what was going on. Shooting a grin at Drake, she followed up the slap with a two-knuckled punch straight to the temple, crowing as he went down. “Are we even, or do I have to start taking out the evil nerd squad?”


	13. Chapter 13

They both turn their attention to the evil geek squad. With no protection, or, as it was starting to seem like, no overseer, the techs gave up the fight. Good. As unfair a fight as it had been, even she had no desire to continue wailing on relatively defenseless scientists and engineers. There was no challenge there. Turning to Rose, Drake gestures to the corner. “Do you want to start questioning them while—“

He stopped, something not feeling right. Literally. An alkaline taste came creeping into Rose’s mouth and her teeth hurt. The look on Tim’s face told her that he definitely felt it too. Glancing back at the techs, she could see a few of them were clutching their heads, in the throes of horrible migraines. Before either of them can react, they watched in horror as one of the geek squad began to vomit blood. A second one was bleeding from the eyes... “Out, now.” Drake screamed at Rose, hauling one of the techs near him towards the door.

Rose wasn’t nearly so altruistic, and she dashed for the exit, just barely waiting for Tim and his package to follow. A wet slapping sound filled the air, similar to food fights back at the Titans Tower with Beast Boy and Cyborg. It sounded like tomatoes splattering against torsos. Looking around, she made a small sound of fascination. The head of the tech that Drake was carrying had caved in, collapsing in on itself, exposing a collar under the jumpsuit. Peering inside, they could see similar things.

“Well fuck.” Rose sighed, wiping gore from her little black dress. “I don’t think our friend wants us to find any answers, Birdie.” Grim determination spread across her face, as she narrowed her gaze at the entrance to the warehouse. “You know what that does to me? It makes me want to know what the fuck this prick is hiding.” She chewed on her lip, considering. She didn’t like to share her work, mostly, but working with Drake had not been a nightmare, and the face he made when the tech’s head imploded would provide her with joy for years to come.

“This is turning in to a much bigger clusterfuck than I imagined. I’ve got some… professional contacts. I’ll put out some feelers, see if any of them have information to pass to me.” She didn’t want to go into too much detail, since most of her contacts were criminals. Well… Kuttler hardly counted as a criminal, really. He was just a nerd with no moral compass and too much idle time for a brain that smart. Tockman, though… He’d give her info. He was always looking for that hook to drag her back in. Tockman would get her some judgement, but he had an ear on the rhythm of the underbelly, even way out here, that was hard to match.

“For now, we might as well go in and poke about. See if there is any clue as to where we should head next. Then I highly recommend showers and food.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Unless you have a better idea?”

He nodded, clearly thinking the same thing. This guy played for keeps, any type of advantage they could get would help. “Yeah, let’s look around. Not sure how long we’ll have before the cops show up.” They moved inside and split up, quickly casing the warehouse.

Rose nodded once and went to take stock of the warehouse. She counted at least a hundred crates of high tech weaponry, all of it primed and ready to go out onto the streets before Drake hit it with the EMP. She wanted to still be pissed about that, but she worked so low tech it wasn’t really that big of a deal. Just that damn brick of her cell phone. Maybe he was right, maybe she should buy something made this millennium. She’d do it herself, though. She didn’t need any of Daddybats’ cash. Rose Wilson stood on her own two damn feet or not at all.

Patting down the security guards, she found a wallet and pocketed the cash, and, more interestingly, a folded piece of paper with letters she didn’t recognize scrawled upon it. Code, or maybe just some foreign language, she wasn’t sure, but she tucked that into her belt as well. She’d get the eggheads to give it a go-over. One more sweep of the area and she was pretty convinced that there was a helluva lot of nothing going on around here. Pursing her lips in frustration, she went to reconvene with Tim.

Heading back into the main chamber of the warehouse, he showed her some manifests. “With these, plus the info you have, we can probably put together his entire supply line and customer network. It doesn’t help us find him personally, but we can shut him down. And hopefully someone along the line will give us a clue. You have any luck?”

She produced her own little find, the yellowed and greying edges fragile as she unfolded the paper. “Not sure if it’s anything of value, or if Stanley over there was just some kind of puzzle nut, but I thought it was worth a look. You recognize the lettering at all? Looks fucking alien to me, I have to say.” Aliens. Not much good came out of the sky in Rose’s opinion, and on her worst days that included the man in tights. The only alien she ever actually got one with was Kori, but that damn female was so fucking friendly how could you be anything less? She might be a bitch but she wasn’t a puppy kicker. Most days.

Rose bumped her shoulder against Tim’s. “If we have to go to space to find this guy, I am going to be right pissed off. I hope you understand that. I am not a space friendly individual.” She laughed. “That being said, if we have to go to space to find this guy, I am still one hundred percent going. Now I am flat out pissed.”


	14. Chapter 14

Drake carefully took the paper fragment, looking it over. Rose could tell by his facial expression that the lettering was not familiar at all, but his exposure to aliens was better than hers. She knew enough to be able to tell that it wasn’t Tamaranean, and she didn’t think it was Martian. “No clue. I can try to decrypt it later.” He studied it hard, clearly memorizing the details. Rose was confident he could puzzle it out, Tim Drake was many things, and one of those was a certified fucking genius. She watched him shrug and pull out a clear Mylar envelope from one of his pouches. Carefully sliding the fragment into it, he handed it back to her.

 “Let’s get showered and grab something to eat. I owe you dinner.” Glancing at his wrist pad, and seeing the time, he smirked. “Or an early breakfast.” Giving the open space one last glance, another thought occurred to him. Walking over to one of the corpses, he grabbed the collar device he had spied earlier. “Maybe I can reverse engineer this. Keep whatever that happened here from happening again.” They headed back out the loading dock, hopping down to the paved road. Tim summoned his drone. “Want a lift up to the room?”

Rose laughed, examining the tech with an appreciative eye. The bird boys always came by the most impressive tech, and though she had no idea what this piece was, or what it’s primary function was, she did trust Drake, not that she would ever in a million years admit that to anyone, least of all him. She had a reputation to uphold, though admittedly she wasn’t doing too great a job on that front lately. Stepping closer, she wrapped an arm casually around Tim’s waist.

“Why not Drake, I’ll take the ride. If I fall off though, I will cut you up into five million little pieces and make a mosaic out of them. I do not want to be healing broken bones tonight.” She wanted the threat to come out tough, edgy, a true Rose Wilsonism, instead her lips kept pulling up into a grin, her voice almost teasing. Dammit, she was not flirting with Tim Drake. Her father would have a fucking field day. She frowned a bit, shaking that thought from her head and resting her cheek against Tim’s chest. “Fly me away birdie, I’m starved enough to eat just about anything, but breakfast would be a fucking treat. We could hit up that diner on East and Queens.”

As the adrenaline of the fight wears off, it’s replaced by something just as primal. “I’m starved, too.” He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her tighter to his body. She could feel him smirking, and could sense that he enjoyed the way her body pressed against his. She didn’t begrudge him the enjoyment, they’d had a tough fight, and she was enjoying it almost as much.

The drone dropped from the sky, hooking into his body armour right above his shoulder blades. “Up, up and away.” He said, jokingly. She did everything she could not to roll her eye. Corny bastard. They sailed through the air, moving along the waterfront a bit, out over the water before angling back to the hotel. The moonlight reflected off the dappled waters of the bay, much nicer than Gotham Harbor, she wondered if he noticed. It was a romantic setting, and she wondered if he thought about kissing her, but grinned. Drake was too rational, and he liked his kidneys non-perforated.

Landing on the balcony, he held her a beat longer, making sure they both had their footing. Almost reluctantly he released her, letting her step into the room. His eyes briefly taking in her legs and the way the dress hugged her form. “You want first dibs on the shower?” Pulling off his utility belt, laying it on the dresser, he unzipped the front of his suit, pulling off his domino mask.

Rose ran her hands through her hair, working out the few tangles that their short flight had snarled into it with her fingers as she watched Drake curiously. Hadn’t she been wearing a wig earlier? She didn’t even remember losing it. Fuck. She liked that hairdo. Her gaze darted to Tim, effectively stifling her internal irritation. She was… over aware of his presence and his body, the last shreds of adrenaline coursing through her veins. The last few flashes they had offered, naked flesh wrapped together, sweat, and heat… well they were best to be ignored. A shower though, that was a good way to blow off some of this tension. Carefully she unstrapped her weapons and tucked them into the saddlebags.

“I definitely want dibs on the shower, I might even leave you some hot water, since you’re being so amenable.” There, she knew smart words like the fancy girls Tim ran into with the kind of cash he carted about these days, and not a damn one of them could do what she did. Peeling off her dress and bra, she let them fall it to the floor and stalked towards the bathroom. At the door she wriggled out of the itty bitty thong, dangling it off the handle before shooting Drake another look. It wasn’t entirely an invitation, but it definitely wasn’t a discouragement either.

Turning on the water, Rose let the steam fill the room, examining her cuts and bruises in the mirror for a moment, enjoying the memory of the fight. Maybe that made her sick, twisted in some way, but the violence made her feel more alive, more _real_. With a small smirk she stepped under the stream of hot water, running her hands down her body and considering. Fuck. She just kicked ass, she deserved to relieve tension in another way. After all, who would ever know? Certainly not the Boy Scout so politely waiting in the next room for her to be finished. She snickered. If he only fucking knew…


	15. Chapter 15

 “I hope you’re not using all the hot water in there.” His voice made it way through the door, a door she did not quite shut. Rose couldn't help the grin that drifted across her face. It appeared that Drake was feeling far bolder these days. Back in their Titans days, he never would have dared, would have apologized for walking in on her. The one time she'd jumped him he'd acted like he hadn't even noticed she was naked. She hadn't minded, that little show hadn't been about him after all. For a moment, she considered sending him away, hot and then cold was definitely her style, but tonight she wasn’t in the mood. She’d play games later, and that was how she justified her next actions to herself. This particular show was definitely for Drake, though she wasn't sure what he was going to do about it. Yet.

One scarred hand reached out, dragging back the shower curtain slowly, putting herself as on display as the steamy bathroom would allow. Hair plastered to her head and shoulders by the stream of water, she carefully slid one hand down her body, leaning against the back wall of the shower as she cupped herself intimately, making eye contact with Tim. If he was going to come to bat, she was willing to pitch him something worth swinging at. In a husky voice, she called back. “Don’t worry, Wonder Boy, I’m heating it right back up again.”

Not breaking eye contact, she deliberately began to play with herself, a small smirk on her face. She watched the tip of his tongue swipe across his bottom lip, her eye finally dropping as he hooked the waistband of his briefs down over his muscular thighs, his erection bobbing free. She had thought she might have felt something poking her side on the way back to the hotel. Still smirking, she strummed herself faster as he answered her, the desire clear in his voice. “I bet you are.” His voice husky, full of desire.

Stepping closer, over the lip of the tub, he joined her in the shower. The hot water beating on his body, highlighting the dips and curves of his muscular frame. Wisps of steam adding to the heat between them as, reaching up with his left hand, he cupped the side of her face. Fingers combing into her wet silver hair, he pulled her in, leaning into her, and pressed his lips to hers.

The heat between them had been building on slow for awhile, deliberately on her part, though she doused it just as deliberately more than once. It was a game she was used to playing, her body a weapon in more ways than one, but this time, this time she figured she deserved to get a little something out of it. Not one to follow when she could lead, she reached up with both her hands, lightly holding Tim’s head as she returned the kiss with interest, nipping at his lips until he opened to her, and then sweeping her tongue inside to tangle with his own. Her left leg caressed up the back of his right, clasping him to her, and when she had their bodies locked together perfectly, she spun them around, pressing the handsome bastard against the wall of the shower.

There was going to be no mistaking who instigated this one; that was for damn sure. Her one hand moved, cupping the back of his neck as she continued to kiss him. Her other hand trailed from the side of his face to caress his chest, pausing to play with the planes of his muscles before dropping lower. She smiled into his mouth and broke the kiss. “Aren’t you being brave today, Birdie. I think maybe that deserves a reward.” She gave him one more kiss and pulled away.

With a sultry laugh she dropped slowly to her knees, leaving a trail of kisses and tiny nips from his jawline, right down to his treasure trail. Drake’s palms slapped against the warm tile of the shower, bracing himself. Her hands caressed up the backs of his thighs, and she nuzzled against his inner thighs, first the left, then the right, leaving surprisingly gentle love bites on each. He let out a soft sigh, and she grinned again. Water and steam all around them she paused, looking up at him through her damp hair. “Be warned, Wonder Boy, I’m about to rock your world.” She dragged her tongue along the length of him, starting at the base and ending at the tip, playing with him. Adjusting her position, she placed a hand on that fine backside of his, for balance, naturally, and gently gripped the base, lightly stroking him as she licked him like an ice cream cone that was melting too fast.

Was it cheating, she idly wondered, using her abilities to manipulate the scenario, or was it just being fucking amazing? She had her own private show going on in her head as her adrenaline spiked again, flashing images of what she could do, how he might react. She used it, went with it, changing her grip and pacing as the bodies in her mind showed her just what he might like. The hardest part was remembering to be gentle. Drake didn’t have her enhanced strength, and she didn’t want to hurt him, not today. She wanted… she paused for a moment, looking up at him with just the tip of him in her mouth. Right now, all she really wanted was him. What a strange fucking sensation.

Unwilling to unpack any of that right now, or ever really, she refocused on the task at hand, as it were. A task she was enjoying rather more than she expected. Done with the teasing, she took him into her mouth, sucking enough to put a little pressure as she continued to run her tongue along the underside of his cock. Her lips stretched in a smile around him as she moved both hands to grip his backside and take him deeper. Slowly taking more and more of him into her mouth, withdrawing before the point of gagging, and then pushing further forward each time until she’d taken all of him in, humming lightly in pleasure at the sensation as her nose buried in his pubic hair. She dug her nails into the flesh of his ass, flexing her hands before pulling out again, and then back in, faster, up and down his length.


	16. Chapter 16

“Fuck Rose, I want… I’m so close.” She could feel the pulsing that showed he was close, and her eye lit up with victory. It was like a conquest, but the best kind. A game like this, everybody was a winner, now weren’t they? She leaned into his thumb as it caressed her cheek, purring lightly around the flesh in her mouth before committing to coaxing the last shred of control out of Drake. One hand let go of his backside, stroking his hip as it came around to gently cup his balls, giving them a gentle, rhythmic squeeze, slightly slower than the pace her mouth bobbed up and down his shaft. His cock had her full attention, and she was willing it across the finish line.

Her other hand kneaded at the muscles of his ass, releasing it to lightly drag her nails down as much of his spine as she could reach. She could feel her jaw starting to get sore from the pressure of her suction, but that was all part of the fun. She took him all the way in, swallowing against the tip as she slanted her eye up again, seeking his face as she did her best to finish him, the corners of her lips still stretched into a smile around him. She felt his hand slip away from her face, bracing against the wall. He was fighting for control, but his body was betrayed him, she was the one in control here. His knees buckled just slightly, his whole body shuddering as she played him like an instrument.

A guttural moan escaped his mouth as she ripped the orgasm from his body, his hands pressed hard against the tile, just fighting to stay standing. She swallowed reflexively, taken in everything he had to give, not letting up until he was spent. Finally she leaned back, crouching on the floor of the shower with a cat-who-ate-the-cream smile on her features, water running down her face as she wiped the remains of his semen from the corner of her mouth. Rose laughed, a pleased purr of sound, as she looked up at him.

“I told you I was gonna rock your world, Wonder Boy. I have to say, you’re certainly fun to play with.” One hand braced on the wall of the shower, she pushed herself to her feet, placing a small kiss on Tim’s cheek before stepping out of the shower. The kiss had been impulsive, and extremely unlike her. Thoughts started racing through her head as she reached for a fluffy white hotel towel, wrapping it around herself without bothering to fuss with her hair. She needed to put some distance back between them, put them back on familiar ground.

Behind her, Tim stepped out of the shower, grasping her bicep to tug him towards his body. His other hand settled at her waist as he shook his head at her. “My turn.” Was all he said, leaning in to kiss her. Sex was supposed to be just sex, a transaction. She had nerves to work off, he had a willing body, and she knew he had enjoyed himself. Most guys were happy to get their rocks off and be done with it, she’d never had to deal with more than what she was willing to put in, so maybe she let him get the drop on her.

His lips came down on hers, and she refused to acknowledge the little flutter that had absolutely not happened in her chest at the gesture. She knew Drake was different, a giver by nature, but she wasn’t big on reciprocity. That way lay dependence and possibly emotions, which Wilsons were uniquely unequipped to deal with. She allowed him the kiss, the brush of lips, but pulled away before it could become anything more. She gave him a lopsided and entirely forced smile. “No need for that, Wonder Boy. We’ve had some fun, let’s move on with our day, shall we?”

Drake gave his head a little shake, smirking. His hand slid along the fluffy white towel, from her hip to the curve of her butt. Squeezing gently, suggestively. “You sure?” He whispered, his voice low and inviting, the tip of his tongue wetting his lower lip. She knew he wanted to please her, the desire rolling off him was almost palpable. Part of her was tempted to concede, to give in and let him have his way this once, but there were so many other factors to consider. Like the fact that she knew he’d get attached. Fuck, he might be attached already.

That wasn’t a problem for her, she knew how to keep her perspective... By brutally shutting down every overture sent her way. She watched his mouth, leaned into the hand holding her backside. If she was honest with herself, and she so very rarely was, she was tired. Tired of running, tired of pushing everyone away. Surely losing someone at this point would hurt less than the emptiness that she had carefully cultivated inside of herself? Rose had no problem taking what she needed in this life, but asking for what she wanted? That was a quick way to get burned, life had taught her that lesson over and over again. Rejection and Rose were practically bosom companions.

But… Drake was offering, wasn’t he? He was putting himself out there, leaving the ball in her court. She could play or pass, it was one hundred percent her choice. She could reject him, she usually had no problem turning people down when they asked for more than she had to give. But that wouldn’t be totally honest this time, would it? Fuck. She should have worked this case alone. She should have closed the fucking bathroom door. She should have learned her lesson one of the million times life had beaten it into her. She had two voices screaming inside her head. The familiar one was demanding that she put him down and run, the other suggested that eating room service out of that attractive dip at his hip bone would make for one fun day.

Instead she pressed her body against his, raising up on tiptoe to brush her lips over his again. “Maybe later, Wonder Boy. If I don’t eat soon, I might just bite into you, and I don’t think you’re ready for things to get that rough.” There. That sounded like her, without crushing him. She wasn’t sure why she refused to crush him, but it was better not to think on things like that right now.


	17. Chapter 17

Tim allowed his hand slide to away from her butt, giving her a smile to mask his disappointment at her rejection, as surprisingly gentle as it was. “If you change your mind, I do have the bat-cuffs. But yeah, I’m starving, too.” She’s relieved that he lets it drop, as they re-enter the main suite. It was much easier for her if they just let it go. Maybe one day she’d be a functional human, but it took baby steps, and she was far from there just yet. Thankfully, she seems to have convinced Drake to leave it be for now, though if what she remembers about the detective is still true, he’d likely poke at the issue more later. She watched as he shook his head, grabbing his clothes and pulling on his briefs and then jeans. As he sat on the edge of the bed, sliding his shirt on, he spoke again. “Rose... How close is this diner? We taking your bike?

The expression on his face was hard for her to read. She could see that he was struggling with something, likely with her, and emotions, but instead he asked about the diner. Turning her back on him, she slid into her own tight jeans and white t-shirt over barely-there lingerie. Grabbing her leather jacket out of her bags, she ignored the small tinge of regret that shot through her. She didn’t really want him to protest, after all, she was Rose Wilson. She made the rules, and people followed them. That was how she liked it, how she kept control over her increasingly small world. She didn’t need complications.

“It’s a bit of a hike, so unless you have hours to spare it’s my bike or the bus. I’m not saying that I’m against public transit, but this may be the one situation where the Kawasaki is the smoother ride.” She offered Tim a half smile, before heading for the door. She almost wished she’d brought the Hayabusa on this mission. Then she’d really have a reason to leave the man behind her on the curb. It wasn’t a two-person bike by any stretch of the imagination, hell, the Ninja barely fit both of them, keeping things rather snug. With the thought of being pressed up against Drake in a confined space before her, she almost actually considered taking the bus. Fuck but she had to re-establish her personal bubble.

She looked back over her shoulder, watching the early morning light catch the shine in his hair, clenching her fist against the urge to run her fingers through the strands. Shrugging into the jacket, she jammed her fists in the pockets, hiding her agitation the only way she knew how, with bluff and bluster. Her voice was teasing, though her face wasn’t smiling. “Come on, handsome. We’ll fuel up on greasy bacon and overcooked eggs, and we’ll see if anything percolates in that tricky brain of yours.”

"And pancakes, do not forget the pancakes." Tim grinned at her, clearly more at ease with the situation. Rose was glad that he was willing to drop the topic, at least for now. Giving the room one last look over, he activated something on his drone, locking the door behind them and putting up the 'Do Not Disturb' placard. He walked side by side with her down the hall, close, but not invading her personal space. She felt that little voice inside her protest, but pushed it down for now. It wasn’t like he was trying to hold her hand or anything. In fact, he seemed to be somewhere else entirely, mentally speaking.

As they drew near the elevator, his silence was starting to grate on her. "Earth to Wonder Boy?" Rose snapped at him, dragging him back from whatever mental foray he’d been taking. He grinned sheepishly at her, his face so full of charm, and again she’s struck by how damn handsome he was. It wasn’t fucking fair. The elevator doors were dinging madly, trying to close as she blocked them open, waiting for the good looking idiot to catch up. 

"Sorry, I was writing a computer program in my head. I think the alien language shares some ancestry with hieroglyphics. I think I can figure out a way to translate it. If my theory is right." The enthusiasm in his voice was unmistakable. He bounced into the elevator, finally letting the doors close. She smirked, shaking her head. Idiot. At the ground floor, they walked through the lobby, heading out to her bike. She was relieved to see it, running her hands over the frame, checking the tires, tapping the hidden compartment to make sure her backup weapons were still neatly tucked inside. Everything was as she left it, and she finally nodded, handing Tim the spare helmet before mounting up.

When he slid onto the bike behind her, arms going around her waist, that little thrill ran through her again, and she just as ruthlessly crushed it. They were partners. On a mission. They’d released a little tension. That was all. She must be hormonal or something, because she was not used to fighting herself this much in her interpersonal interactions. Admittedly, Drake was among the more committedly charming out of the former team mates she’d partnered with in recent years. Usually she didn’t draw in anyone half so friendly, given her general ‘I will cut you’ demeanor.

“Hold on, Bird Boy, we’ll be there as fast as you can breathe.” Bike roaring to life, she pulled away from the curb, enjoying the way his arms tightened around her as she took a corner so sharp they were practically parallel with the pavement as they went around. She dodged and weaved expertly through the traffic, racing through more than a couple red lights, before pulling up in front of the run down little diner. She sat on the bike for a moment, taking in the moment, enjoying the sights and sounds of the early morning city atop one of her favourite machines, with a well muscled man behind her.

The sign of the diner, barely discernible as reading ‘Regent Dinette’ in an overly elaborate font that had seen better days, was half off, hanging dangerously close to the entryway. The windows were filthy, but through them the place looked surprisingly busy. Rose eased off the bike, extricating herself from Tim efficiently before locking down the bike and tucking away her helmet. “I can’t guarantee you won’t get food poisoning, but the portions are large, the coffee is thick, and Reggie is… well, I’ll let you experience Reggie all on your own.” Reggie, as the owner of the diner was affectionately called, was a massive Samoan fella with one arm, one eye, and an appearance that suited a pirate more than a cook at a diner. He owned the place, and tended to greet the customers personally. He wasn’t great at what he did, but the prices and the entertaining company kept people coming back.


	18. Chapter 18

Rose slid off the bike, and Tim followed suit, taking his helmet off, and running his fingers through his hair. "Place sounds like it has a lot of character. I'm not too worried about the food poisoning." he chuckled. Walking towards the building, she watched as he took in the greasy spoon exterior. Seemingly unfazed, he opened the door, setting a handful of faded flyers that were taped to the glass fluttering. With a flourish, he gestured for Rose to enter first.

The smell of bacon and eggs filled the diner, the buzz of conversation blotting out the background music. Two waitresses bustled about, one of them directing the pair to sit wherever they could find a space. Drake motioned to a back booth, taking the position with his back to the door. She was surprisingly touched by the gesture, happy to have a wall at her back and a clear view of the entrance. Grabbing menus from behind the chrome napkin dispenser, he slid one to her. The waitress, Sami according to her nameplate, walked up with a pot of coffee, filling their mugs. "I'll give you two kiddos a few minutes to look over the menu. Just so you know, we're outta wheat bread."

Tim looked over the menu, before picking up the sugar, pouring a ton into his coffee, and then adding 4 creamers. Grasping the mug in both hands, he took a sip. "So how've you been? Heard from Joey or Terren recently?"  As the words came out of his mouth, they were immediately overpowered by a booming voice.

"Girl, where have you been?" Turning slightly, the pair could see Reggie moving nimbly down the diner towards where they sat, a big grin on the man's face. Stopping at the table, he clasped Drake on the shoulder, not quite gently. "And who do we have here?"

Rose raised her own coffee, black, to her lips to hide the smirk that was attempting to break out across her face. Reggie was a character, and he was clearly sizing up the former Robin sitting across from her. Replacing her mug, chipped lip pointing away from her, she leaned back and grinned. “Now Reggie, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. If I told you where I’d been, you could be arrested as an accessory to murder. Who would ruin my breakfast if I allowed that to happen?” She was surprisingly relaxed, though her eye flickered around the establishment, threat assessing the other patrons. “That’s Drake. He’s a … friend from work.”

Reggie threw his head back and laughed, patting Tim’s shoulder aggressively. “This tiny little slip of girl, she’s the funniest damn thing on two legs. Accessory to murder. Girl, you’re not more than a whistle worth of flesh.” He patted Tim’s shoulder again, squinting at the young man. “It’s not nice to say someone’s a friend from work when you won’t tell me what you do, you know girl. You make an old man fret.” Releasing Drake, he sat his hand on his hip, stepping back to size the pair up. “You never brought a friend here before, girl, so I’m thinking maybe this might be something special? Showing up this time of day? Maybe Reggie smells some romance?”

Laughing, Rose shook her head. “I couldn’t pine away after you forever, Reggie. I just know one of these days you’ll accept my proposal, until then I’m just having fun.” The big man leaned in, pressing his lips to the top of Rose’s head, which she allowed, swatting his shoulder as he pulled away, his own single eye sparkling.

“You’re a naughty girl, teasing an old beast like me. Keep your secrets, pretty lady, I’ve got breakfast to cook.”

Rose watched him walk away, shaking her head in amusement. “That old charmer is crazier than a coonhound, and can’t cook to save his damn soul. I don’t know why I let him take liberties.” She looked up at Tim, the smile still on her face. It made her seem softer, friendlier. There was a hint of the girl she might have been, once upon a time. Clearly she was comfortable in this dingy little diner in a way that she never had been back in the Tower. For a moment, she considered ignoring Tim’s question, after all Reggie had been quite the distraction. Instead, she took another sip of the atrocious coffee and considered.

“I saw Joey, briefly, in passing. I know he’s back and around, but he’s different this time. I don’t think we’re going to be close like we were last time around, before he went crazy and Dad had to kill him.”

Tim shook his head at the mention of her father, something like regret crossing his face. She appreciated that he didn’t pity her, since she’d hate to have to murder him in Reggie’s diner. "Sorry. For both of you. He's such an ass. You both deserve so much better."

Chewing her lip, she narrowed her eye at Drake. “Terren and I… She’s safe right now. That’s what’s important. I try not to talk too much about her.” She closed her eye, leaning back and thinking on the situation that led to her bond with the other girl. The torture, the heartbreak, the rough conclusion. “She’s … important to me. Every time we get together though, my father manages to show back up and ruin everything, so we keep contact brief.”

Pivoting, Drake returned to the subject of the jovial cook. "Reggie seems quite the character. You've got him wrapped around your finger." He smiled. "How long have you known him? I'm guessing he's not from our line of work.”

Rose shifted position in her seat, and for a fraction of a second what could almost be described as guilt flashed across her face. Then she laughed, shaking her head, face all calm and smiles again. “Reggie’s a man of mystery. If you listen to him he’s been in this kitchen his whole life, slaving away over a stove. We have a little game going, to see who cracks and gives up the goods on the missing bits and pieces first.” She raised her voice so that it carried across the room. “I keep telling the big lug he’s going to crack first.”

In the cooking area, a massive frying pan clanged against the cook top, the big cook turning to grin at the pair of young vigilantes. “Girl, why you lying to that boy, there? Don’t he got enough problems, squiring your backside around? Now you gotta pick on poor old men, who just want to cook you some breakfast? It’s a tragedy. Ain’t nobody taught you no manners no time.”

Flipping Reggie the bird, she leaned forward, voice low. “He plays dumb, but I’m pretty sure he knows who I am. Not once in all the time I’ve come here has he made any reference to parents. He’s clearly avoiding the subject.” She flickered her eye over to Reggie, watching for a moment. “I asked Kuttler to do some digging, and the man used to be a professional bodyguard in some pretty rough areas. Saigon, Bangkok, Phnom Penh… If the big goober won’t admit to working out front of my mother’s brothel, I won’t for one second admit to who I am.” She sat back, smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Plus, I pay that Cheetos-fingered bastard plenty of cash to keep me informed when people ask about me, and to tell them nothing.” She tilted her head. “Apparently old Reggie has a potty mouth when he’s frustrated.”


	19. Chapter 19

Rose watched Drake smile, rolling her eye at the man. Idly she wondered if he was always so bloody cheerful. She didn’t remember him being such a bouncing ball of happiness back in the day. Then again, she hadn’t exactly been a treat to work with. “Well let’s try not to upset him. No matter how bad the food is I won’t say boo.” Tim chuckled, shifting his position in the booth, sitting perpendicular to Rose. She watched as he glanced between her and Reggie, and she had a small twinge. Had she given too much away? Too much of herself, too much of Reggie? She had forgotten that Drake was a detective first, and a kickass vigilante second. As he smiled broader, she darted her own glance over to the big cook, sighing internally as he watched them carefully, particularly her dining companion.

Finally, Tim accepted the change of topic, picking up on her previous point. “Kuttler’s an odd one, isn’t he? I had a run-in with him last year. He had just helped Ste—uh, Spoiler, with a sticky situation. I was working on a separate issue, showed up at his hidey-hole cabin and found them having breakfast. I think deep down inside, he, too, has a heart. He ended up hooking me up with some information that really helped.”

There it was, the hesitation she expected when people dealt with her. She understood about keeping other peoples secrets, but she also knew that very few of the current crop of crime fighters would trust her as far as they could throw her. It didn’t matter, of course. She didn’t give a crap about all the junior heroes, their secret identities, or their boring lives outside of that garbage. It had very little influence on her own life, after all. She worked and lived and functioned better alone. Always had, always would. It was a good reminder, since she was getting altogether too comfortable with the brunet across the table.

“I like Noah. He says what he means and doesn’t sugar-coat anything. He tells you exactly how trustworthy he is, in dollars, and he does his job better than anyone else in the field. These days he’s the first person I turn to when I need intel, or work even. He gets lines on some wild fucking jobs. A few years back I got a message from this group of fuckers about joining a big game hunt. Turns out, they were seeking out metahumans specifically to /be/ the big game. Kuttler gave me a heads up, so I didn’t end up going in blind.” She sat back, a cruel grin spreading across her face. “Now that turned into something fun.”

Just then two plates hit the table in front of them, brimming with hard scrambled eggs, burnt bacon and sausages, and surprisingly fluffy pancakes. It was like someone had flipped a switch on Rose’s face, the cruel expression vanishing as she beamed at the big man. “Reggie! Waitressing again? I think the rules say if you do that you have to shimmy into one of those adorable little skirt and apron combos like Sami there has on. Go ahead. I’ll wait. I know you’ll be a real knockout.” Her teeth flashed in her amusement, and the big man frowned at her.

“Little flower, one of these days you’re gonna tease this old man too far and my poor old heart will give out.” He gave Drake a forlornly pleading look. “Do you hear how this girl, she talks to me? Big brains I have behind this ugly face, but she’s obsessed with my body. It’s enough to give an old man palpitations.” He shook his head sadly, patting his chest with his one, large hand.

Rose threw her head back and laughed, face turning red when she fell back forward, wrapping her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together in the face of the cook’s antics. He kept shaking his head through the full minute and a half it took her to get herself under control. Finally catching her breath, she beamed up at the older man, patting his outer thigh affectionately. “That’s not an impending heart attack, you stud muffin. That’s grade A hormones finally pumping that body of yours back to life. It knows what a good time we could have, if you finally came over to the dark side with me. Such a shame to waste all those muscles.”

She scooped up a jiggling forkful of eggs, shoving it cheerfully into her mouth. They were hard, over salted, and otherwise lacking in flavour, but to her they were perfect. Reggie shook a big finger in her face. “I swear girl, one of these days you’re going to flirt with someone who will take you seriously, then where will you be, neh? Maybe this fellow here, he’s a stout bit of scruff.” The big cook eyeballed Drake again, a half smile tugging at his lips. “Someone is gonna catch that heart you got inside your prickly pear shell, Missy, and then you’re going to be in big trouble, and old Reggie will be there, full of I told you so.”

Rose stuck her tongue out, mouth still full of half-chewed egg. “You’re crazy old man.” She mumbled out around her food, pausing to swallow. Fuck but she shouldn’t have stayed away so long, she loved being here, with this rough old hack who couldn’t cook to save his life. Except, of course, when he started harping on her lack of social life. “Just because I bring one friend here once doesn’t mean shit.” It did mean something, though. She hadn’t thought about it, when she brought Tim here, but Rose didn’t tend to forget details like Drake was a detective and she may or may not have just given him a key to her past. She had somehow made that decision, unconscious as it may have been. “Now shoo so we can acquire our food poisoning in peace.” Laughing, Reggie reached forward and ruffled Rose’s hair, sending the locks flying around her face. As she swore and launched a sausage at his face, he trundled back behind the counter. “Bad touch! I call bad touch! I need an adult!”

“Complain to your little friend. Maybe he will care.” The big man hollered back across the diner at her.


	20. Chapter 20

Tim couldn’t help but laugh, grinning at Rose. “Want to have a little fun?” Turning to face her, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Let’s pull a prank on Reggie? Nothing mean, just something silly.” She watches as his eyes settle onto a giant roll of cling wrap. “Does he drive to work? You know him better. Any ideas?”

She tried to resist, but Rose couldn’t restrain her responding grin. “Oh does he ever, the oldest, must rundown jalopy of a car you’ve ever seen. Seriously. Dude drives a 1972 AMC Pacer. It’s the funniest fucking thing you’ll ever see.” She snickered. “I say we do it, then you can experience the brilliant potty mouth of Reggie. Last year, I replaced his entire egg order with duck and emu eggs. I’ve never laughed so damn hard in my whole life.”  Shoving a burnt piece of bacon into her mouth, Rose stood, sidling up to lean on the counter, dangerously close the to the cling wrap. “Hey Reggie, what’s up with the pancakes today? They’re practically edible! Did you have a stroke or something? I think you should let me feel your forehead, you might be deathly ill or something, and not even know it.”

Reggie whirled around, partly melted plastic flipper in his hand as he shook it at the girl. “I swear, little flower, you’re determined to send this old chef to an early grave. Get out of here with that sass talk. You may be quick, but I’ll turn you over my knee.”

She batted her single eye at him, clasping her hands together under her chin like a love-struck girl in a telenovela. “Oooh, Reggie. You get me all stirred up, talking dirty like that. You’ll make all the other girls jealous.” The waitress walking behind her tried, and failed, to stifle a giggle as she went by. Reggie threw his hand up in the air, a disgusted noise emerging before he squarely turned his back on her, pretending to be fascinated in whatever was happening on the grill. Triumphant, Rose bent over the sneeze guard and lifted the box of wrap, darting her eye for the door. “Just going to check on my bike, Drake. Pay the tab, will you?”

As smooth as she could muster, she made her way out the door, angling her body to hide the roll of cling wrap. She’s not sure why she went along with this silly escapade, but it kind of gripped her attention, and she wanted to do it. Tim was like that. Drake. Drake was like that. He brought out these… childish behaviours in her. Made her feel lighter somehow. More like she used to be, back before her life fell to pieces. Back before she became a weapon. It couldn’t last, though. Nothing ever did for the Wilsons, and Rose was determined to keep herself alive, whatever else life had in store for her.

Shaking it all off, she moves around to the side of the building, leaving Tim contemplating life over his coffee. Sticking him with the bill had always been the plan, but it felt more fun this way. Less planned. She missed spontaneity. She hadn’t had much of that in the last few years. Drake came back to find Rose practically dancing around the Pacer, stretching the wrap around the car, thoroughly enjoying herself. He leaned against the wall of the building. “Need a hand?”

She didn’t need any help with something like this, but something about Drake’s voice caught the edge of the feelings she’d been fighting since halfway through the mission. She froze like a deer, half-turning towards him, that megawatt grin still across her face, and for just a moment, blink and you’d miss it, her whole demeanor softened, real affection showing through. Then it was gone, buried as quickly as it had appeared behind a smile that was now more smirk than grin and the bitchy bravado that most people knew to be Rose Wilson.

“About time you showed up, Wonder Boy. All the hard work is done. Why don’t you tie the pretty little bow? That way Reggie can benefit from the feminine talents of the Third Bird.” She tossed Tim the cling wrap, over the roof of the car. She snorted, a small little excuse for a laugh that was more to hide her burgeoning discomfort than to express any real humour. Even she knew that last line had been weak. She turned her back on her temporary accomplice, striding back towards the alley, ostensibly to ‘keep a lookout’ for the owner of the vehicle she had been so cheerfully defacing.

“I’ve got a lipstick in my pocket, we can leave the big man little smoochies so he knows how much we love his piece of shit mobile.” She crushed the curiosity within her, refusing to look behind her to see what Drake was doing. Instead, she focused on talking herself out of this weird fascination she’d been fighting. It wasn’t like her, and she didn’t want it. She’d realized a long time ago that relationships were not for her. Even the people she called friends got tired of how cold she was, how distant. She’d tried to explain to them, about her father, about keeping away to keep them safe, but no one ever listened.

 “All set for your kisses.” A hand landed on her shoulder, breaking her reverie. She never let herself drift off like that in public. She whirled around, lightning fast as adrenaline coursed through her body. Her precog sparked, flashing images in the space between breaths. It was enough, and she froze, her fist a whisper from the side of Tim’s face. She dropped it, stepping away from him. She was tense, embarrassed, confused. None of this as what she was used to. How could she have allowed him to get the drop on her? She took a step away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, dropping her head so that her hair fell over her blind eye as she retreated.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Drake?” Her voice came out angry, harsh, hiding the spike of fear that had run through her. She was in full defensive mode, retreating inside the bitchy shell she maintained to keep others away. To survive. She’d let too much slip, she’d shown him too much. How the fuck had she fucked up this badly? She raised her face to glare at him, but the only heat was in her voice, her real emotions playing across her face as she fought for control. She took another step back, stopped herself, pissed that she was retreating. What the fuck was going on with her? Every instinct in her head was screaming at her to run away, but Wilsons didn’t run, they attacked their problems. Made their problems leave. She wanted to yell, to tell him to fucking go, but even that wouldn’t come.

“This is fucking stupid.” She wasn’t running away, she was walking away. Fast. Towards her bike. She would just leave him here. Go for a ride. Not come back. Disappearing was her strong suit. This had been a bad fucking idea. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.


	21. Chapter 21

It was all planned out. She was getting on her bike, driving away and not coming back. Ever. One of them would stop the Armorer. Not seeing one another until the next Crisis or Titan funeral. If she attended. They both would wonder what might have been. He more often than her, most likely, but she will, too. Stupid, Drake. Stupid. She was halfway to her bike. All mission. Get out, get clear, and regroup. As soon as she got on that bike, she’d be gone. Anger and resentment sealing up the cracks he'd made in her armor. Making her harder. Tougher. Better.

A scuff sounded behind her, shoes on the pavement, and a hand grabbed her arm, spinning her towards him. She could have resisted, of the two of them she was certainly the stronger; they both knew it was true, but she let it happen, she wanted to see… she wasn’t sure what it was she wanted to see. See what his plan was? His fingers laced through her hair, sending shivers down her spine, and then his lips crashed against hers and her thoughts scattered.  She was feeling raw, exposed, vulnerable, none of it feelings she was accustomed to, or particularly willing to engage in on a normal day. She should slit him from gut to gullet for daring.

There was a clatter as the blade she hadn’t even noticed drawing dropped to the sidewalk. One of her hands threaded up through Tim’s hair in reciprocation, the other wrapping around his shoulders, pulling herself tight against him as she returned the kiss. Hungry. Desperate. She was feeling so much. Rage. Fear. Confusion. She poured it all into him with her lips and tongue and teeth, her one leg sliding up the back of his to wrap around his waist, crashing the pair of them into the wall behind him. She released his hair, slid her other arm around his shoulders, her other leg wrapping around his waist. She was clinging to him, in more ways than one, the wall behind them her only support as she begged him with her kiss. She wasn’t even sure what she was asking for, just that she was drowning and didn’t know how to come up for air.

His hands slid down from her waist, cupping her ass and supporting her as he leaned his weight against the wall, returning the kiss with an intensity that matched her own. Eventually she broke the kiss, gasping for air. Her emotions weren’t anywhere near settled, swirling about inside of her in a confusing morass. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she kissed him, maybe to keep from stabbing him. Likely to keep from stabbing him. Carefully she let her legs unwrap and slide back to the ground, she let go of his shoulders, used her own hands to take his off her backside and stepped away, eyeing him cautiously, like he was some kind of wild animal that she had never encountered before.

Her fist clenched and unclenched a few times. She raised her hand, dropped it, and raised it again… finally she knelt to retrieve her dagger, sliding it back into its sheath. “Don’t fucking sneak up on me, Timothy Drake. I’m a trained weapon, not just some girl you’re fooling around with. I could have fucking killed you. Idiot.” She turned away, heading back to her bike, pausing after a few steps, her head turning round to look at him again. “Well? Don’t just stand there, we have work to do. Let’s go.” She was struggling to put distance back between them, to regain her professional coldness, but she couldn’t, and this time it was her own fucking fault. Fuck.

“We’re not done yet.” Tim moved up alongside her, matching her pace. Rose quirked an eyebrow at the presumptuous statement, but didn’t stop moving. He could think whatever he wanted, she was done here. Drake jerked his thumb in the direction of the saran-wrapped vehicle, and she realized that, thankfully, he was not going to discuss the stupid fucking kiss. “Think we should tell Reggie we thought we saw a coyote rummaging around his trash barrels back there? Or do you not need to see his reaction?”

Seeing Reggie’s reactions to her pranks live was always fun, but she had lost her enthusiasm for it at the moment. She wanted distance between herself and the place where she’d lost control. Physically and mentally. She was a creature defined by control. The control her father had exerted. The control she had usurped. The control of men like Tockman and Will. It was always about control with her, and she had rigidly maintained her own for years. She wasn’t about to let it all go due to one silly lapse, no matter how appealing the catalyst was. She slanted a glance over at Drake, refusing to let her lips draw up into a smile. She was still mad at him.

“Seeing it’s not necessary. He’ll call me later, leave a lecture and a half on my answering machine. I like to listen to them when I’m drunk, they’re always good for a laugh. The big guy has a way with words that never ceases to impress.” It was a peace offering, this personal information. Reggie had a number to reach her at. She was close to the old cook. Tim clearly had been able to piece that together himself by now, but she was confirming it. Her eye flashed fiercely. “I come here a lot, he’s been targeted once or twice. Always managed to fight them off, then he goes back to claiming he’s just a cook.”

She snorted, mounting her motorcycle. “Just a cook my ass. One of these days, I’m going to figure out who he’s really working for. Until then, we play our little games. If you’re still around, I’ll play you the message when it comes in.” She straps on her helmet, closing her eye for a moment to just breathe. Today was not working out how she wanted it to, and she was fucking tired. Emotions were exhausting, but then again, so was fighting heavily armed security all night and not sleeping.


	22. Chapter 22

Drake donned the orange helmet, mounting up behind on her on the bike. When his arms wrapped around her waist, she felt warm. Comfortable. It was strange, the way she was getting used to him in that seat. Good, but also not good. She shook her head, deciding not to overthink it for now. The only way she was getting him back to the hotel was the way they were set up right now. If she still felt unsettled, she’d dump him there and take off. As they wove through the early morning traffic, the sun was rising. In the east, towards the harbour, the sky turned to shades of pink and red. Red skies in the morning, sailors take warning. Good thing she wasn’t a sailor.

Behind her, Tim was blissfully quiet on the ride. Either taking in the scenery, or more likely for him, puzzling through something with that busy brain of his. She wasn’t a stupid person, despite her spotty access to formal education, but the mechanics of the former Titan’s mind were baffling. She’d never met anyone who thought so hard and long about anything. It made her feel like she needed to step her game up. Try harder. Her father was known for being clever, for using more of his brain than others. Maybe it was time for her to stop reacting on instinct all the time.

Finally they pulled up in front of the hotel, the sun like an angry red phoenix behind it in the waters of the harbour. Drake pulled off his helmet, and she could feel him shaking out his hair behind her. She could see it in her mind’s eye, the way those deft fingers of his threaded through the dark locks, leaving it messier than it was when he started. “What do you thing, time to get some sleep?”

She had the training to not need as much sleep as other people. Necessity had taught her that time with your eyes… or eye… shut should be limited when you were constantly on the run. Then too, there were the nightmares that plagued her so often. She tried to think of the last time she’d slept anywhere near another breathing body, and came up blank. Normally she catnapped here and there throughout the day, but after all the activity, Rose knew that she was nearing exhaustion. She eyed Drake cautiously, pulling off the helmet and shaking out her long hair. At the current moment, she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Calculator would still be abed for hours, and the cranky information broker did not like to be roused at the hours she kept.

All that ran through her head as she watched Tim, weighing her options. Finally she nodded, once, and dismounted from the bike, tossing her keys to the nervous looking valet. “Any damage to the bike, and I’ll toss you off the roof of the building.” The young man spluttered, almost dropping her keys before catching them again, turning wide, nervous eyes to Drake. Rose ignored them both, heading inside and into the elevator, her only concession to her companion was holding the trip until he was inside. As they traveled upwards, she was as silent as he had been on the motorcycle ride over. Her own mind full of thoughts and doubts, her arms crossed defensively in front of her. Everything about her advertising her lack of desire to interact right at that moment.

She was trying to process. The kiss. The shower. The camaraderie at the diner. Very little of it made sense to her. She understood, at a basic level, friendship. She had that with Eddie. She’d shared it, once upon a time, with Joey. Terren. She understood sex. The brothel had exposed her to it at a young age, and her mother had always been willing to answer any questions she’d had. She’d indulged here and there over the years. Team mates and various other partners… but not friends. She’d never combined the two before, and she wasn’t sure how to proceed in this new territory. Eventually she’d drive Drake away, with her harsh nature and violent tendencies, she knew that much. Everyone left her in the end; that was just how the world worked. The trick was how to keep enough of herself back that it was just another day.

The elevator opened and she stalked out, letting herself into the room, holding the door for Tim. The smart answer was to not get involved at all, but she’d already screwed that up. Maybe, maybe it was time to stop it. Fuck. She didn’t want to stop it. She wanted to explore this… whatever it was between them, no matter how much of a bad idea it was. She couldn’t shake the image of his muscular body, shaking against hers as she went down on him. She’d felt so powerful. So real. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She was going to screw this up, that was what she did. The voice inside her head, the one that sounded suspiciously like her old friend Eddie, whispered that she should talk to Tim. Let him in, explain her hesitation. She squashed that. Stupid voice. She would never admit a vulnerability to anyone. Never.

Instead, she gestured to the bed with one hand. “You take the bed, I’m smaller so I’ll be more comfortable on the couch than you would be.” That little voice called her every kind of fool, but she was just staying on brand. Putting distance - mental, emotional, and physical – between the two of them to help cope with the fact that she had no idea what she was doing. Grabbing her saddlebags, she went over to the couch, digging out an over-sized black hoodie out of the bottom. If she held it up to her nose, she imagined she still smelled sulfur on it, though in all honesty it had been far too long for anything to linger. Tracing one of the burned holes in it with her finger, she shook her head, folding it neatly and placing it on the couch like a pillow. “Set your little toys to wake us in a couple hours. There’s still lots of work to do.”


	23. Chapter 23

Turning back to her as she offered him the bed, Drake shook his head. Rose didn’t quite understand his refusal, she was being courteous, as much as she knew how to be anyway. “Rose. When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep? One where you didn’t need to keep one ear cocked the whole time? I need to get some thoughts down about that alien script. You take the bed. I’ll stay awake a couple hours, then crash on the couch. The drone is set to raise an alarm and electrocute anyone who walks into the room.” He grabbed his laptop from his bag and made his way towards the couch.

Everything in her wanted to fight him on this one. To get some kind of reaction out of the uncharacteristically quiet young man. She’d never known Drake to spend this much time in his own head, and she knew that she, at least, was at fault for that. Once more she cursed her inability to function like a human fucking being. She had once had a conversation with Eddie, about the hero life and all it entailed. How he had wanted it, much like the dark haired male in the room with her now. They had so many parallels. They both strove to do what was right, struggled with their place in life, but always they were seeking to be better, to help others. Eventually, she had come clean to Eddie. Explained that she hadn’t want any of it. All she’d ever wanted to be… was normal. Such a small seeming goal, but as far out of her reach as the sun in the sky.

How could she be normal if she couldn’t even interact with people who were just trying to be her friend? She knew Tim was a good guy. She knew he was a true hero, not just by his actions, but by his very nature. He should be the safest person in the world to let herself relax around, but there was still that horrible voice in the back of her head, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Expecting the pain, the betrayal. She was too broken for normal. Like her friend had said, normal wasn’t for the likes of them. The best they could do was assure that others got to experience it, with as little interference from the monsters in the world as possible.

Shucking her pants, Rose pulled the hoodie on, comforted by its familiar weight, the softness of hard-worn fabric. Her heart was racing, panic and insecurity racing through her. She wasn’t afraid, not really, she just didn’t trust herself. Or Drake. Or anyone. She crossed the room, reaching out for Tim for a moment, before retracting her hand, cursing herself as ten kinds of coward. Leaning forward, she bussed Drake’s cheek with the barest hint of a kiss. “Thanks, Wonder Boy.” It had been a long time since anyone had heard her voice go that soft, but she shook off the climbing confusion and worry, crossing the room once more and crawling under the covers. Eye squeezed shut, she knew she wouldn’t sleep, her brain was too busy screaming inside her head.

Rose lay still, listening as he tapped away at the keyboard, working away at who knew what. A translation program for the alien text? Checking in with his contacts about the Armorer? One could never tell with Drake, his brain worked so fucking fast. Every once in a while there would be a pause, and she could feel his eyes seek her out, even across the room. Every time she tensed up, even though she knew it did no good. She didn’t want to face him right now, didn’t want to explain what kept her from the sleep she so clearly needed. For once in her life, Rose didn’t want to risk hurting someone’s feelings, and her distrust would be incomprehensible to Drake. After what seemed like an eternity he stopped, paused. Was he listening to her breathe? Fuck.

He closed the laptop, standing up, stretching. Crossing the room, he whispered to her. “Hey, not sure if you’re still awake, but I need some gear. I left my stuff parked on the Daily Planet. I’m going to head out. Be back in a couple hours.” Not waiting for a reply, he quietly opened the door and left. Rose waited, breath caught in her throat, as she listened to him head down the hall, the elevator coming up, and then leaving again. Throwing back the blanket she left the bed, cursing herself again for the fool and coward that she kept proving herself to be. She could practically hear her father’s grating voice judging her. Well fuck him too, this was half his fault. She ran an exhausted hand over her face, trying to master the paranoia running through her veins. Some days were worse than others, and she hadn’t spent this much time with another human in well over a year, it was starting to wear her down.

Rose wedged the bedside table under the door handle, pulled the blinds over the windows. Flipped furniture upside down and spread it across the room, forming a kind of obstacle course. From her bags she pulled out several small incendiary devices, setting them up on the sills. She didn’t worry about Drake setting them off, she wasn’t one to oversleep. She’d be awake again before he returned, or the second he hit the hallway. She closed the bathroom, locking it. Blocked the closet closed with one of her swords. That done, she tucked everything she owned under the bed, joining it there. Finally, wedged someplace dark and protected, her back against a wall, the events of the past twenty four hours caught up to her, and she allowed herself to drift into sleep. Idly, just before she lost consciousness, she considered whether or not she should text Drake, warn him about her little security measures. Nah. She was only going to take a catnap.


	24. Chapter 24

Three hours later, a knock sounded at the door. A familiar voice calling through the thick wood. “Rose, I think I forgot my keycard.”

The silver-haired assassin jolted awake, knocking her head against the underside of the bed, causing her to swear profusely. As she scrambled for her weapon, she tried to figure out what had woken her. Had the table moved? No. The door, someone was knocking. Embarrassed, she slid out from under the bed, whirling around the room as fast as she could, trying to quietly put it back to rights. “Are you sure it’s not in your jacket pocket?” She called back, trying to feign a sleepiness that she no longer felt, her adrenaline kicking in as she righted furniture. She wasn’t quite sure why she was hiding what she had done, but part of her just knew she didn’t want Drake to see.

“I don’t think so...” He paused on the other side of the wood. “Let me check my wallet.” It was hard to convince herself she didn’t give a fuck what the other vigilante thought when she was making such an ass out of herself, but she wasn’t going to try and self-diagnose. She pulled the table away from the door and dove for the bed, rumpling the blankets and her hair as she tried to look … normal… Fuck. Her eye trailed down, to where her eye patch lay discarded on the floor by the bed. Immediately she shook her hair to cover the scarring. Talk about exposing yourself to the world. Even Eddie hadn’t seen her without the patch on, it was probably her biggest hang up, but she’d taken up too much time already, Drake would find his keycard any second.

“Yeah. It’s here.” Rose heard the beep that announced the keycard had been slid through the locking mechanism, watching as Drake opened the door. “Sorry if I woke you. But it’s probably a good thing.” He chuckled, seemingly unaware that she’d just raced to clean the room while he stood in the hallway. “I was all set to catch the thrown dagger if I did startle you.” She watched as his eyes automatically scanned the room, still not looking directly at him. She can tell the moment he spotted her eyepatch. With an almost practiced casualness, he leans down as he walks to the bed, picking it up on his way to her.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he wordlessly placed it on the mattress by her hand. “Did you get some good sleep? I hope I didn’t disturb you too much when I left?” Tim looked towards the balcony doors. “Looks like it’s going to rain. We may want to walk the perimeter of the warehouse before we head out. See if there’s anything we missed last night.”

As Drake mused about the warehouse, Rose carefully picked up the patch and tied it firmly into place, hiding her self-inflicted infirmary from the world once more. For her it is more than just a badge of shame, it is a sign of how far she fell, and is a reminder that she can and has been vulnerable. It took twice as long to relearn everything she had been able to do with full vision, and she couldn’t afford to let her reliance on someone else to open her up to that kind of hurt again. That was what came from trusting people. But… Tim wasn’t like that. She knew it in her head and her heart, but part of her still resisted, still danced away like once-seared flesh avoids a flame.

“Thank you…” She whispered to him, once she was hidden again. The words were soft, almost hesitant. Rose Wilson had never been one for gratitude. It had no place in the harsh world she existed in, in the life she was forced to lead. It was a weakness, a vulnerability, that acknowledgement that someone else’s assistance had been needed. Drake deserved her thanks, though. He had been nothing but kind to her. Patient. Understanding. It’s why he had her in such disarray. She was used to the men in her life being as harsh as she was, survivors’ first, people second. Drake didn’t have that hard edge. Not that he wasn’t perfectly capable of messing someone up, but there was part of him that had survived this vigilante lifestyle without shutting himself down. She envied him that. Wanted some part of it for herself, no matter how selfish that might be.  

She could feel a sadness emanating from him, and she wanted to ask why he was hiding it behind smiles and work, but she dared not. Wasn’t she doing the same thing? At her core, she craved connection with someone, to matter to someone, but she hid it all behind smirks and quips. She had her secrets, it was only polite to allow him his as well. They had returned to a precarious equilibrium. Neither of them willing to push at the other, to risk it all toppling into the unknown waters they paddled so close to the shores of. It was hard enough to admit to herself, inside and quietly, that she wanted to offer him her vulnerability, share with him in a way that she hadn’t in years, but that she didn’t know how. The desire itself terrified her more than any enemy she had ever faced.

Rose Wilson was not supposed to be a coward. She could have sworn that the fear had been beaten out of her years ago, but this was different. The stakes might not be life or death, but they felt so much higher. The corner of her mouth quirked up, her inner monologue had certainly gotten more dramatic lately. She inched her fingers across the bedspread until her hand rested so close to Drake’s she could feel the heat off of his skin. He deserved an answer, an explanation as to why she hadn’t been able to trust him. He was the most trustworthy person she knew, and for some reason, she actually regretted the distance she had put between them. “I don’t sleep well, I don’t like how vulnerable it leaves me. Last time Slade got the drop on me, I was asleep in my own safe house. He hadn’t been around in ages, I thought I was safe. He broke one of my arms just to teach me not to let my guard down.”


	25. Chapter 25

“Jesus, Rose.” She could feel the anger radiating off of him, as he processed her words. Lifting his hand, he covered hers. The warmth oddly comforting. “When this is all over...” He paused, weighting his words. “If you want...I’m getting you a good night’s sleep.” He smirked. “I don’t know how or where, yet. But you’re going to sleep 8 hours, knowing the Boy Wonder is right outside the door, window, whatever. Ready to be the first line of defense. I doubt I’d beat him if he shows up, but I’ll go down as loud as I can, make sure I wake you up.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Only if you want. But I want that for you.”

She surprises herself by returning the squeeze, the heat of his response both strange to her, and oddly touching. She rarely talks about her sadistic sire, and the things he has put her through to train her, to toughen her up, to ensure that at least one of his offspring lives. Despite her own anger about his twisted love, she hadn’t really expected anyone else to feel the same. Even those that shared her past, it was more of a strange acceptance. He was her father, and that was the way he was. She could no sooner change him than redirect rivers. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Wonder Boy… or when he is.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an uncomfortable honesty to the statement, like a weight of truth settling over the young vigilantes.

Almost as if to drive the dark thoughts away, even for a moment, she leans into Drake, resting her head for a moment on his shoulder as she raises their entwined fingers, inspecting them. His are darker than hers, as if he sees more sun, and though his are far from unmarked, her latticework of scars puts his to shame. Even their callouses are different, her skin thickened by the use of swords, his by far less deadly weaponry. Despite her ruminations on his gentler nature, their hands at least, seem to go together. Two extremities that dispense the same justice, no matter how far apart their methods were. It made her frown, the fingers of her other hand tracing over her swollen knuckles, tucked in between his.

“I’d never expose you like that on purpose, Drake.” There’s a fierceness in her voice, as if she’s trying to make a point that she wants him to understand. “I’d never put someone I c- someone I like between me and that psychopath. What we have, that’s his business and my own, and one day we’ll settle it between us. He’s getting slower, despite the serum. Minutely. I can sense it sometimes when we fight. He won’t be the monster under my bed forever. One day I’ll get the upper hand, mostly because he’s not trying to kill me.” There’s a darkness in her eye as she looks away, out the window, afraid to show him the monster that lurks within her. “I assure you I am not lending him the same courtesy. Eventually, that will make the real difference in this cat and mouse game we are playing.”

“Ok. But the offer stands. And I know you’d never willingly put me in harms way. Or anyone for that matter.” Tim bit the inside of his lip, she could smell the tinge of copper in the air. “I’m not going to pretend to know the dynamic between you and Slade, but I do know how dangerous he is. He’s one of the only people on this planet that Bruce truly fears. He’d never admit it, but he does. Having said that, knowing that, I want to be there for you, Rose.”

He was so fucking sweet, and she didn’t know what to do with that. Her world hadn’t had a lot of sweetness in it, not in a very long time. Usually those moments were gone faster than they arrived, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t savour this one, just for the briefest second. She closed her eye, letting the comfort of his words wrap around her like a hug, before sadly letting the feeling go. “Bruce is right to fear my father. The man is a finely honed blade, a killing machine, and worse, he enjoys every second of what he does. That gives him an edge your mentor will never have. I’ve seen him fight. He hates it, hates himself. It holds him back…” She was overstepping, Rose knew that but she couldn’t stop herself. “He’s used it to hold you and the others back.”

She kissed the back of Drake’s hand, idly, as if she wasn’t really aware of what she was doing, and then released it, pulling herself physically away from him as she settled herself back onto the bed, eye staring almost blankly at the ceiling. “It’s funny, in a lot of ways he and Slade are alike. They say that they are putting us at risk, and they push us away, but when it comes right down to it, they want us back, at their side, where they can use and control us.” She holds up a hand to halt any protest that Tim might make. “I know Bruce is a good man, deep down, but he’s damaged, and until he can come to terms with that, he won’t be anything to me but a selfish manipulator. The worst part is, I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. At least Slade is honest about what he is… what he does.”

She rolled onto her side, tracing patterns in the blankets with a single scarred finger, trying to figure out exactly what she’s articulating. “I’ve always reached out to you and the others, when I couldn’t do something on my own. Dick. Jason. Hell, even Damien. I know none of you really see it, even Dick and Jay, as much as they rail against Bruce.” She can’t make eye contact with Tim, she’s still struggling with what’s going on in her head. “I always felt that you guys understood me, a little bit though. Understood the pressure of the man you admired most in your life being far from infallible, being unhealthy for you…” She gave a bitter little laugh, looking up at Drake. “Sick, isn’t it? After everything, I still admire my father. I know that without him, I would have been dead a hundred times over. I can try to hate him all I want, but he gave me this life I have, and I don’t really regret it, as much as I wanted normal.”


	26. Chapter 26

“You’re not wrong about Bruce. His obsession. How it affects us. We’re a lot alike. Both shaped by men who have a singular drive. We’re their children, but also their legacy. When they’re gone, we’ll be here. Carrying on for them.” Tim was actually considering what she said, and something fluttered inside Rose. It was one thing to have chemistry with someone, to work well with them, but he actually listened to her. Heard her words. That was a gift she had rarely been given. He laid down, curling on his side. She didn’t draw away, she was craving intimacy in that moment. Not sex, not romance, just the shared bond between two comrades. Two soldiers who understand each other.

“There’s nothing wrong with admiring him… Slade I mean.” Drake chuckled. “And I know you’re not looking for Tim Drake’s validation. You’re right about them. Bruce and Slade. They’re a lot alike. I love Bruce like a father, but he’s messed up. I don’t want to be a Dark Knight. I became Robin to temper his darkness. But, now, I get that I failed.  Became more like him, not the naive teenage hope he would become more like me.” She could hear a hint of bitterness in his voice, but he was entitled. They both had father issues to deal with.

It had been years since Rose had trusted another person at her back, longer since she had done anything remotely close to cuddling, but for the moment, with all the dark secrets spread out before them, it felt right. Drake felt right, as much as she was loathe to admit it. Reaching back, she drew his arm around her, holding his hand as their bodies drew closer. She knew what she was opening herself up to here, but it didn’t matter. Her friend’s world was shifting, and inadvertently or not, she had been the cause. The very least she could offer was some small comfort here, in this room where they had shared secrets.

“You brought light into his world, Tim, don’t every doubt that. I watched you, sometimes, back before my father dumped me at the Tower. I knew where he wanted me to go, and I wanted to stake out the target. He left me to prepare in my own way.” She thought back, remembering a time that was half-clouded in serum-induced madness. She’d had trouble finding herself. Tracking a target had aided in the clarity. “I followed the pair of you on a patrol, listened to your constant chatter. Fuck but you always talked so damn much back then. The Bat didn’t seem to mind, but he should have. He might have noticed me tailing you if you hadn’t been so distracting.”

She grinned a little, placing another brief brush of her lips over the fingers she had twined with her own, easing the teasing tone of her voice. “The pair of you took out a group of bank robbers, idiots with a playing card motif, and after it was all said and done, there you were, beaming face full of pride, and you cracked a joke. He’d already turned towards the vehicle, so you didn’t see, but he cracked a smile. There was laughter in his eyes. It was fascinating, and I hovered too long. He spotted me, cut you off sharp with an order, but he didn’t know who I was back then. Didn’t know how fast I could be.”

She sighed, feeling the warmth of Drake’s body behind her. “Never doubt yourself, Tim. Wherever you go, you bring brightness. You have a moral fibre to your soul that makes people want to live up to your expectations. It’s why I always preferred to work with Jay, out of the birdies. No need to be a better person with him. You’re like Eddie, you make me wish I was more than a weapon, make me believe that I could, but I’ve been down that road before.” She sighed, the sound heavy with emotion, like she was mourning something. “Even now, with that edge you’ve picked up, you’re still a shining light. It’s a good thing. Don’t doubt it.”

Tim pulled her tighter against him, holding her close, and she let it happen. Didn’t resist. "You can be more than a weapon. You are more than a weapon. Rose, you just need to..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. "You say that I'm a shining light. Let me be that for you. Let's not let our fathers define us. We can do it together. In some weird way, I feel like we can help each other." She can hear the unspoken words between them, and though she knew he had more to say, Rose was terrified of what he might say. She had to stop it, before she hurt him. She knew that her thought process was different than most peoples, the fact that Tim could follow at all said a lot about him, about how well he understood her.

It was frightening and comforting all in one. Comforting, because that was the nature of Timothy Drake, frightening, because it was entirely anathema to Rose’s own nature. She was not one to offer or take comfort from another person. She stood alone, always alone, looking in. Protecting. Destroying. Never partaking. That was what she had trained so hard to become. Every moment since Eddie died had been about erecting walls around what was left of her softer nature, but something about Drake seeped through the cracks. Maybe it was her own fault, maybe she was letting him. Maybe she had been lured off the path by his skin tight suit and soft blue eyes. Maybe she was getting soft in her old age.

She snorted, shaking her head, rejecting the very idea. He’d certainly gotten harder, in more ways than one. He was different, but still so much the same. She hadn’t changed nearly as much as he had, she didn’t know how to evolve. Years later and she was still the same angry girl from the Titans, with a chip on her shoulder, daddy issues, and a tendency to dance with death. She squeezed his hands, tight between her fingers, for a moment forgetting her enhanced strength as she tried to drive away her demons with his warmth. She turned in his arms, looking into his eyes with her single, un-ruined one. “I’ll always be damaged goods, Drake. I can’t give you sweet words and promises, I can’t even promise you kindness; it’s not something that comes naturally to me.”

She bit her lip, trying to judge the expression on his face. She was afraid of what might be tripping at the tip of his tongue, afraid of what he might say, and she wanted to stop it. “I’ve always been better at being on my own. A better fighter. A better killer. We’re working on this because you’re a better detective, and I respect the fuck out of you, though I will deny it if you ever tell anyone I said it in so many words.” A strained smile played on her face, she was trying to joke, but she wasn’t good at it. Wasn’t good at lightening a mood that she had made dark. “I can promise you this job, but I don’t… I don’t know if I have what it takes to offer anything beyond that. There’s an emptiness inside me. It fills me up and lets me kill, like white noise in my veins.”

She broke eye contact, embarrassed. “I don’t hate what I am, and I refuse to give it up. Not for passing passion, not even for friendship. Slade might have made me a weapon, but I embraced the identity. I don’t feel regret when I take a life, because I don’t have the human part that makes that emotion anymore…” She sighed, closing her eye. “You’re a beacon in the dark, and I’m the monster under the bed. We both exist in the night, we might even have the same goals, but I don’t know if that means we can be more than what we are.” Her voice trembled for a moment, and she crushed the emotion in it. “Either I’ll dim your light, or you’ll reveal what I keep hidden from the world, and I don’t think any kind of attachment can withstand that.” She trailed off, an unwanted emotion hunkering inside her where she had contained it. /But I wish it could./ She never regretted the deaths she caused, but this… this was something she might regret.


	27. Chapter 27

 “I’m not asking you to change. I’d never do that. You are who you are, Rose.” Drake’s hand squeezed hers. Familiar. Comforting. “You might darken me? Maybe, but I’ve already survived the Dark Knight graduate program. I might draw something out of you? Maybe.” He shrugged, an awkward gesture for someone laying on his side, but he pulled it off. “We might walk out of this hotel in an hour and walk smack dab into Space Zombie War or some other cosmos ending Crisis and then its game over for both of us.”

He smirked, laughing at her frown. “Alright, you’ll probably survive somehow, but I don’t want to face my end with any regrets. I know you can’t or won’t give me any promises.  I’m not asking you to. But I’m going to promise you something. I will always be here, or there, for you. As a friend, a detective, a partner.” He paused. A beat. Another. Rose’s whole body went tense, worrying about what might come next. Worried that nothing would. “Whatever you need. Or want.”  He leaned in, his eyes never leaving her single one. He pressed his lips against hers. A chaste kiss.

Shock ran through Rose, followed by confusion, wariness… She wasn’t sure what exactly Drake wanted from her, what he was saying. It was … outside of her current life experience. This gentle acceptance. It trickled through her, held her rigid for a moment against the soft brush of his lips over hers. Then, something slowly dawned on her, and it was more confusing than any of her previous thoughts. Every one she had ever encountered wanted her to become something. A weapon. A fighter. A hero. A better person. Drake… he was just accepting that she was Rose. It was like a thousand worries flowed off of her for the briefest moment. She relaxed, returned his kiss just as chastely before pulling back slightly, studying him with a frown marring her forehead.

“I don’t understand you, Tim.” She paused, shook her head. “That’s not true. I understand you, but I don’t understand your… lack of expectation?” She tried for her bitter laugh, but it was slightly softer, at least here, in this bed where no one could see them. “Life is commerce, at least mine is. You throw me off balance, and I don’t know if I like it.” She closed her eye, fought the demons that growled and roiled inside her. The constant voice telling her it was a trap. A weakness. The voice wanted her to run, to drive her knife into him and flee into the city, get lost and get out. She placed another chaste kiss on his lips. “I am so tired of expectations.”

She let him go, rolling over to slide out of the bed, reaching for her gear. Work. They had work to do, and that could distract her. As long as she had a job, she didn’t have to think about the things that Drake made her feel. She would push it aside. Ignore it. “Come on, Wonder Boy. We have a case to solve, and we’re not getting any closer laying on the bed acting like girls.”

He watched her roll off the bed, the half smile on his face telling her plainer than words that he was feeling good about the conversation. Tim just laid there for a bit, stretching slightly. “Commerce, huh? The Ravager Fair Trade Act. You just kissed me twice, does that mean I owe you a kiss?” He smirked, telling her he was kidding before she hauled back and hit him for his cocky attitude. She’d save that for later.

Rose felt both lighter and heavier, and she wasn't sure why. Since she couldn't understand it, she discarded it. Something to worry about later. Not now. "If you think I'm into fair trade, Wonder Boy, then you haven't been listening." She offered him a grin, glad of the return to their easy camaraderie. She could handle that. She understood it at least.

“It’s not like that — Rose. Not for me.” He rolled to her side of the bed, sitting up, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the bed. “I don’t want there to be expectations. Just communication. I think we’re both dealing with some serious shit in our lives. But yeah, gabbing like school girls isn’t going to catch the Armorer. Just don’t shut me out, ok?”

"Communication has never been my strong suit, but you knew that. It was easier to get Cass to talk than me some days." She laughed, shaking her head and digging through her bags for her burner phone. "I've been trying to shut you out since you showed up, Drake, but you just won't stay on your own damn side of the door, so I guess we will try it your way. For now."

He started pulling out his gear and laying it on the bed, organizing it.  "I'm not planning on letting you shut me out." His tone was light and flippant, but the gaze she was avoiding meeting was not. "Just so you know." He stood up, stretching again. As she watched the play of his muscles under his clothes, Rose tried to get her head back in the game. They were going to need coffee to get through this next bit. Lots of it. Walking over to the desk, Drake picked up the phone. “Room Service. Yeah, can we get a pot of coffee, a tray of pastries and some fruit sent up? Thanks.” She wasn’t sure if she liked how he read her mind so easily. He grabbed his bag off the floor, plopping it onto the bed. “You going to reach out to Calc?” He fiddled with his wristpad. “I’ve got nothing on my end yet.”

She flips it open and sends out a few quick inquiries to her contacts. Kuttler. Tockman. Crane. Fuck, did she have any contacts that weren't villains these days? Not really. She chewed her lip. There was one more person who would definitely be able to get the information, but she snapped her phone shut. No. If Kuttler couldn't get it, she didn't want the information. Some things weren't worth the price. "Calcy and a few others that have an ear to the underground. My strengths have always been in my comfort level with the criminal element after all.” She rolled her eye, taking out her blades and beginning to check them all for nicks and spots.

Aside from the two katanas she had over 30 daggers and knives of various sizes, complete with sheathes for her to strap them on. Every job had its own edge, and she was good at guessing which was needed. With a whetstone and a polishing cloth, she lost herself for a moment in the familiar action. She'd always found cleaning her gear calming. While she does that, he takes out the control collar they’d gotten off the baddies back at the warehouse, losing himself in the tech. Almost an hour passes in quiet and calm as they work, until finally Drake breaks the silence.

‏"I think I can hack the death necklace. Not completely sure, but we'll see. It operates on Bluetooth. Not sure what the deathray was, but it's not any tech I'm familiar with. But nothing on the hieroglyphs yet. I'm waiting to hear from either Carter or Ray. Hawkman or the Atom." Hawkman and the Atom. Carter and Ray. She stored the information away, not that she’d be likely to use it. The Leaguers were generally out of her sphere of influence, they rarely touched the kind of work that called for Rose Wilson. "While we're waiting to hear from our sources, we can check out another of the locations you got. What's closest?"


	28. Chapter 28

Death necklace. Death ray. Fuck but Drake was such a nerd. It made Rose smile as she tucked away the last blade in its sheath, calmer now than she’d been when she started. She had originally intended to let the dorkiness slide, but that devil inside her couldn’t help teasing the man, just a little. “I swear, Wonder Boy, if they weren’t deadly I would think you were down right excited about all these little toys and tidbits we’ve been picking up. You’re just shy of geeking out over there.” She grinned at him, and it almost reached her eye, warming her expression. She was feeling good, and part of that was because of the former Robin.

Tim’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment, and she ducks her head to hide the way her grin widens. Fucking dork. He was geeking out about the tech. With a hand running through his hair, he gives her a sheepish look. “Yeah, a little.” He admit, though it clearly pains him to come off as such a nerd in front of her. As if she didn’t know exactly how lame he was before they had started this little adventure. “Who knows what else this tech could do? Maybe benefit mankind?” She watched as he pieced the unit back together, slipping it into his duffel bag.

That done, she pulled out a wad of crumpled papers from her saddlebag. Where Tim was all tech, she was definitely more old school. Though a few of the pages were digital printouts, courtesy of the Calculator of course, most of them were scribbled notes on a variety of things that could almost be called paper. Candy wrappers. Napkins. Drake watched her as she spread out something that distinctly looked like toilet paper with smudged lipstick lettering on it. She cross-checked that with the back of a receipt, a crumpled sticky note that no longer stuck, and a torn digital printout of a city map. Chewing her lip while she considered, she traced various paths across the map.

The pair of them were different. Tim had his tech and toys, and she had these scraps of information, painstakingly gathered on whatever was handy. She could move them around, overlay them, or adjust them. Sometimes she tore parts off, all while building a picture for herself mentally. Maybe he could have done it faster with some kind of computer program, but she felt it was more real this way, as if bits of where she was when she wrote the notes down clung to them, giving her another angle to examine them from.

Finally she looked back up at Drake, her face more serious, though her eye still held the warmth of their earlier camaraderie. “There’s a few options we can look into. I’ve got a bar down in Suicide Slum that I’ve tracked a few of the fellas who seem to be higher up in the Armorer’s ranks to. We could go down there and see if the two of us have enough weight to throw around. There’s another possible warehouse slash distribution centre over in Midvale, though that’s a bit of a hike.” She paused, frowning and wrinkling her nose as she picked up one of the candy wrappers, reading over what was written there with a flick of her eye.

“Or there’s a longshot. Around the same time the weapons started appearing, properties in Little Bohemia started being purchased. Anyone that wouldn’t sell disappeared, but there was no evidence of foul play. I’ve swung by a few times, looks like someone is tearing down the buildings for a massive build. I’ve only got my gut on this one, but I think it might be connected. That’s just me, though. No proof there, could be something entirely unrelated.” She shrugged. “Those are my best leads after the docks.”

As she goes through the options, he weighed the pros and cons of each. “I think we should plan on hitting that bar later. Maybe tonight? I’m going to want to change.” He smirked. “My frat boy look stood out like a sore thumb at the bar yesterday.” He slid the rest of his gear into his bag, zipping it shut. “After last night, security is going to be tighter at his warehouses. As much fun as that was, let’s shelve that for now.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, he thought it through. “I think Ethan and Candy might go real estate shopping in Little Bohemia. Any of those properties residential?”

Carefully, Rose folded up all her bits and bobs and tucked them away in the pouches they came from as she weighed Drake’s input. Left to her own devices, she would likely have headed straight for the warehouse. She was better at direct confrontation, but then again, their different approaches was one of the reasons she agreed to work with Drake. Her way hadn’t been getting the results she wanted, so she had to be open to other options. He was logical, at least, as he talked them both through his thought process. That she could appreciate, since it was a field where she still missed the ball more than she hit it.

“The bar is definitely a late night venue. I can’t wait to see you all roughed up for the evening crowd. I’ve been there a few times. Tricks is a great place to get lost, or get into a fight.” She laughed, but it was the hard laugh that she usually gave. The one that didn’t really hold any humour. “I think no matter how we dress you up, you’ll likely stand out there, but if you’re with me they’ll ask fewer questions. I’m almost a regular down there, these days anyway.” Tricks was a place you went to keep an ear to the underground. More drug deals and territory disputes were settled there than in all the back alleys of Metropolis City. It was a hub of criminal activity, and Rose didn’t really want to think about what that said about her, that she was comfortable there, and that they were comfortable with her there.

“I hate to admit it, but you’re probably right about the warehouse. The last fight was rough, and if they’re prepared, it might be a bigger bite than we can chew just yet if we charge in. I agree to give it a day or two to calm down.” There. She could compromise. Look at her being a good old team player. “Ethan and Candy are definitely the type to stroll through Little Bohemia, but I think the real estate is being acquired whether it’s on the market or not. Maybe they should just be down there shopping, looking for kitschy trinkets for their love nest or something like that?” She smirked across the room at Drake, dropping into Candy’s voice. “That vase, Ethan. Isn’t it so precious you could die?”


	29. Chapter 29

“Not as extravagant as that tapestry we saw at Sylvester’s Emporium, but they would both look great in the foyer, don’t you think?” Smirking, Tim stowed his gear under the bed. “I’ll extend the room for a few days, so we have a base of operations. Not sure if you’ve got a hidey-hole here in the city.” She does, but she’s not sure she wants to reveal that to him yet. They were getting to a place of trust, but Rose wasn’t one to rush things. Not anymore. She closed her eye, thinking about her little bolthole with longing. “I have some clothes with the Redwing, so if we can stop there before we head to Little Bohemia, I can change. She’s parked on the roof of the Daily Planet.”

Rose laughed a bit at the image, watching with interest as Tim powered his drone back up, setting it to guard the room. She put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door, and then they headed down to the lobby. It took effort, but she didn’t complain when Tim paid for three more nights. She knew he thought they needed somewhere to work from, and she just wasn’t ready to invite him to stay at her little escape. Walking out to the valet station, Tim waited patiently for the young man to bring her bike around. She scoped out their vantage point, noting the warehouse from the previous night’s excursion. It was now an active crime scene, with half a dozen cruisers, an SCU assault wagon and the coroner’s wagon all parked outside. A beat cop walked the perimeter, pulling a roll of ‘Police Line’ tape behind him.

“I’ll hack into the Metropolis PD later, pull up their incident reports. See if we missed anything.” Tim whispered as the valet brought the bike around, carefully dismounting. Obviously Rose’s warning of taking care was passed along. Drake tipped the guy $10, and Rose fought not to roll her eye. “Thanks man.”

Rose mounted up on the bike, mentally tallying her weapons on hand. They were going out as civilians, so she would need to be subtle. “We can stop at the Planet so you can grab your things. I’ve got a storage unit that should have something I can pull together to look a little less assassin-chic.” She flashed him a grin. The storage unit was almost like a peace offering. She couldn’t …. Wouldn’t … No, couldn’t. She couldn’t take him to her safe house just yet, she wasn’t ready, but the rented locker in the downtown area was like a small peek into her world. She didn’t offer even that much to anyone.

She snorted. Hell, she could count on two fingers the people she had invited to her own actual safehouses. Usually she crashed one of Jason’s if she had company, but it seemed a little tacky to break into his brother’s hidey hole with Tim right there… although… Drake had been pretty willing to misbehave thus far. She slanted him a glance, the barest hint of a smile playing on her lips. “You know, Zombie bird has a bolthole around by the storage place. It might be more comfortable to change in then an undersized garage. Of course, I don’t know the code to get in, but it shouldn’t take the two of us that long to figure it out. After all, you are a genius.”

She paused, weighing the silence between the pair of them to see how he would take it. Sliding onto the bike behind her, he put his helmet on. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he smiled, a moment passing between them as he contemplates the implication of her trusting him with her bolt-hole. He totally understood the significance, she knew he would. Bruce had drilled the operational security of that into his protégés time and again. He was almost as fanatical about it as her own father. A father that would disapprove of her current flirtation. He didn’t believe in fraternizing with the good guys, no matter how many times she had explained to him, in less than patient detail, that she _was_ a fucking good guy… Sorta.

"I think we both know him well enough to know its some combination of the date he died." She laughed sharply, nodding before starting the bike up. Jay had a dark sense of humour that Rose enjoyed, but it was nice to see Tim taking it lighter. He usually avoided such talk. Maybe he had changed. They zoomed through traffic, Rose pushing her bike to its limits, Tim gladly holding onto her tight. This is the Rose she wanted to be with him. As she zipped between cars, pushing 20-30 mph over the speed limit, he could likely feel her body relax, living in the moment. Whether the fact he had his arms wrapped around her added to that, she didn’t care to speculate upon.

All too soon, they pulled up in front of the Planet. Rose parked the bike carefully in an alley, and they headed inside. She watched as Tim hit the button for the 30th floor. Getting off the floor below the Daily Planet newsroom, he guided her through a labyrinth of mostly empty cubicles. Looking like they belong, despite the way they're dressed, moving with confidence, no one questioned them. Rose had done this kind of thing before. She had done this here before. Popping open the door to the emergency exit, they headed up the three flights of stairs to the roof.

The breeze hit them as they stepped out onto the roof. Rose moved to the edge, looking out over Metropolis. She had to admit, it was quite the sight. Her glance darted over to Drake, noting how much he seemed to love seeing the city from the top of the Planet building. Nowhere near the tallest building, there was still something special about standing up there under the giant globe of the Earth. Plus the security here was less tight than the twin towers of Lexcorp. Tapping his wrist gauntlet, he dropped the stealth shield on the small craft sitting on the far corner of the roof. He smiled, cocking his head toward the Redwing.

"Come on." Walking under the ship, he pointed to a panel. "Put your thumb there." As Rose did, Drake tapped a command on his wristpad. "You now have access to the ship. Just...you know." The bottom of the craft recessed and Tim pulled himself up into the bay. Turning, he offered her a hand, but the look she gave him made him smile. People rarely smiled when she glowered at them, and it tugged at something inside her. He just shrugged as she pulled herself up without his help.

"Have a look around." She slid into the pilot’s seat as he dug around in the very carefully organized disaster that was the back of the ship, digging out gear for their next few adventures. Stroking the controls, Rose felt the smallest twinge of envy. Did Drake even understand how lucky he was, to have access to this kind of technology when he needed it? Sometimes she literally had to kill to get her hands on equipment, and nothing was every as state of the art as his little aircraft. "Whenever you're good?"

Startled, Rose looked up. She had let herself relax too much again, had lost track of where Drake was in the ship, a feat, considering the small size. She cursed mentally, but wiped her face clean of any reaction. Her typical blank expression slowly blinked up at Tim’s face, a hand running through her hair, knocking the tresses back over her eye patch. Part of her was screaming that being this at ease with someone was putting her at risk. It was a weakness, an opening in her carefully crafted defenses. Perhaps there was hubris in believing she was more equipped to deal with the dangers of their world than the dark-haired man, but even her father hadn’t completely shattered her confidence. She truly believed, that if she stayed vigilant, stayed strong, she could defend herself against anything.

Almost anything, apparently. She glanced up at Tim again, watching him through the curtain of her hair warily, as if he had suddenly become a threat in the last few minutes. She could feel her muscles tense, her fingers twitching with the need to wrap around a weapon. Instead of reaching for one, she focused on breathing, letting the rage and fear within her coil back in on itself, forcing it back down into the core of her where she kept it, like a burning coal at the heart of her being. Slowly, the tension melted back out of her limbs, and she offered Drake a mocking half smile, though the disdain was certainly self-directed. “I’m always good, Wonder Boy, let’s get out of here.”

She pushed away from the console, slinking past Drake as if she hadn’t a care in the world, as if she hadn’t been seconds away from an episode just a few short breaths previously. She hated that he had her so off-kilter. She had known her mental state had been deteriorating, but this was a bad sign, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She hadn’t been taught how to reach out and seek help when she needed it, and she wasn’t sure she knew how. Instead, she fell back on the old sustaining patterns that had kept her alive thus far. They may not be healthy, but that was the Wilson way, after all.

Stepping out of the ship, she tilted her face up into the sun, taking a last, slow, soothing breath to steady herself. What the fuck was wrong with her lately? Searching her mind, she tried to pinpoint the moment her rigid self-control and hypervigilance had slipped. Backtracking mentally, she came to a very concerning conclusion. Ducking her head once more, she watched Drake warily from behind the curtain of her hair. No matter how she added it up, it all came back to the former Robin, standing in the door of his small craft, bag in hand. She couldn’t even interpret the expression on his face, so wrapped up in her own mental safari.

The thoughts roiling behind her eye weren’t worthy of being spoken aloud. Someone who did what she did, with her background, was above all that silliness. Still she couldn’t help but wonder. _What the fuck had he done to her?_


	30. Chapter 30

Tim waits as she soaks up the sun, a thousand questions dancing through his dreamy blue eyes. Wait what? No. Blue eyes. Just eyes. She didn’t give a fuck what colour his eyes were. Fuck. Instead of asking a question, he simply smiles at her, the warmth making her catch her breath for half a second, and hops down from the craft. She can’t explain it, but she's really enjoying being with him. It isn’t fair to let him look at her like that. She’s a woman with steel in her heart. Maybe he could bring a bit of light to her life, but she could bring nothing but iron to his. Shrugging nonchalantly, he moved past her. "I know you're always good." He threw her a wink, opening the roof door leading down. "Let's go crash J's pad."

Rose ducked her head quickly and pushed past Drake, hoping like fuck that he missed the red colour that had spread across her cheeks. Maybe she could pass it off as minor sun damage. Wilsons did NOT blush over flirtatious bat brats. As she moved down the stairs, eschewing the hall to the elevator, the exercise would help her get her unruly hormones under control, she focused on her breathing. Brick by brick she carefully worked on erecting the wall she kept between herself and the world. Fuck. Slade Wilson had spent years battering it down with his love-hate approach to fatherhood, but she’d managed, for the most part, to keep him out. Why was it failing her now?

Like the detective she had teased Tim for being, she shook out the scenarios of the past few weeks, trying to pinpoint the moment he had made it through her barrier. When had he turned her from warrior to weak? Ten flights of stairs and she still hadn’t figured it out. The anger in her centre began to bubble up. She hated not understanding. Of all her skills, rigid self-control was the one she most prided herself on. She’d worked the hardest on managing her emotions. She had easily managed to sweep the softer feelings under the carpet, but rage was her burden. It was the centre of her being, had been since the night Lillian Worth had driven off a cliff, solidified when she stood in the Madison’s kitchen, looking at the ruins of the life she had hoped to build.

She whirled around, a small blade suddenly in her hand, aimed at Tim’s face. She didn’t throw it, didn’t even draw nearer to the other young hero. She stood there, panting lightly, frowning up at him. She should have let him take the lead, usually they were close in height, but their positions on the stairs put him above her, gave him the semblance of being bigger. A small snarl escaped her, an animal sound, as she wrestled with the furious turmoil inside her. “What the fuck is going on, Drake? What’s the game? What’s the goal? Why the fuck are you being so fucking nice to me?”

He looks cautious, but not scared. As if even here, with her threatening him, he knows she won’t do it. Idiot. If he only understood how much easier she could make her life by just letting go and taking him out. Even with him on the higher ground, she could take him. Skills only beat out superior strength and speed if your opponent was also unskilled, and she was far from that. She had the talent, and the roiling emotions to make all kinds of terrible mistakes at their expense. He holds his hands up, showing her that he wasn’t a physical threat, trying to placate her.

Her anger hid the fear inside her, and worse. There was a deep lonely hole inside her that wanted whatever was happening to be real, but she had learned that lesson at the feet of her father. Nothing was free. Everyone had a plan. Your value was set in the expectations of those around you, and their consideration came at a cost. She couldn’t just let this go with the flow anymore. She wanted to know what Tim wanted from this exchange. “Is it the sex? Because I can tell you right now, you don’t have to be that fucking nice to get in my pants. Is it the job? Because I’ll work with you on this regardless, I already agreed.”

There. He could answer her questions, and she could push this foolishness back where it belonged. Into the dark where she could stew over it later, pull it out and use it to fuel the violence of her world. She just… she couldn’t play anymore. She couldn’t pretend that they were a pair of friends hoping to be something more. It was too much. Too hard. Maybe Drake thought he was being nice, but Rose knew herself, deep inside where she would never admit things to anyone else. She couldn’t handle being left behind again by someone she’d grown to care for. Maybe if he stopped being so fucking nice she could halt this infatuation before it got out of hand.

It was kind of fitting they’d have this conversation in an emergency exit stairwell. Most couples would sit on the couch, a drink in hand. Not them. Knives and seemingly endless flights of stairs. Years from now, they’ll look back and it will be the metaphor for this whole fucking relationship…. Except they weren’t in a damn relationship.

“Rose, there’s no game. No plan.” Drake took a tentative step down a stair. Both to close the gap, but also to minimize the height difference. He was smart not to try to have this conversation while he loomed over her, but she felt the anger itching under her skin. Even his attempts to be reasonable made her want to stab him. “I like you. I’m your friend. Your partner in this investigation. Hell, your suck buddy in the shower. I’m not playing a game. I just want to be there, here, whatever, for you. I know you’re not the trusting type. I’ve got to earn that. Just give me that chance. I know you feel something for me. I see it in your face.” Another step closer and he’s on the step above her, looking down into her eye. The knife was no longer between them, but to his side. He reached up, cupping the side of her face, his expression inscrutable.

She’s not sure why she let him touch her, not when she had all this rage and emotion battling inside her, but his palm against her cheek seems to calm the anger inside her, if only a little. Her breath hitches a little in her throat, and the crazy idiot leaned in towards her face. She should bite him, the asshole. He couldn’t just kiss her every time she was being unreasonable-

But then his lips were warm and soft against hers, and the blade dropped from her hand. Never one to passively receive passion, she reached for his collar, twisting it in her small fist and jerking his body hard against hers, backing herself into the wall for balance. Propped up at the back, she levered her free hand against his shoulder and hopped, wrapping her legs around his waist and releasing his shirt to wrap her arms around his neck. Maybe he meant the kiss to be brief, conciliatory, but the fire inside her demanded release. If she didn’t feed it blood, it would happily take something hotter.

She pressed her lips harder against Tim’s, parting them slightly to dart her tongue out and run it along the seam of his mouth. She pulled back slightly, diving in again to nibble at his chin and then at his bottom lip, biting it just hard enough so he could feel her teeth, not to do damage, she sucked it into her mouth, slowly pulling away and releasing it. Wrapped around him, her lips damp, she glared at him. “You are going to be one of the biggest mistakes I ever make, I just know it.”

Growling she dove in to kiss him again, all tongue and teeth and need. She didn’t want to admit how badly she wanted him, but maybe it was too fucking late.


	31. Chapter 31

Whatever Drake’s intentions for the kiss, with her emotions in turmoil; the kiss inflamed her, and the fire jumped to him. One hand instinctively wrapped around her waist, hand cupping her ass, keeping her aloft. Their bodies wedged tight against one another. The kiss, or series of kisses-her mouth darting around - his lips, his chin, back to his lips - is one of those moments she’ll remember forever. The passion between them growing with each connection. She should have gone cold, shit him down, instead of confessing what a mistake they were making. She had given him another piece of herself, and she was terrified that she would learn to regret it.

Grinding his hips against her, Tim’s tongue battled for supremacy. His other hand slid up her back, fingers slipping into her hair, gripping her head, deepening the kiss. It was a good move, that small assertion of dominance. Rose was primal, a burning flame that you either fed, or smothered, and she refused to be smothered. She rose to the challenge, squeezing his waist with her thighs and digging her scarred fingers into the flesh of his shoulders, as if she could tear him open and climb inside. Finally, she breaks the kiss, panting with the need to catch her breath, to process. The hand in her hair was enough, for now, to keep her from moving away. Instead, she rested her forehead against Drake’s, sharing the air between them in an act that somehow felt more intimate than the kissing of a moment before.

“What am I going to do with you, Timothy Drake? I am fucking _undone_.” There was certainly passion in the admission, but that wasn’t all that was there. A thread of fear laced through it, of uncertainty. She didn’t want to be undone. She didn’t want to be weak. She certainly didn’t want to consider what else could come from continuing to play this game with her former team mate. They were playing with a fire that could get out of control so easily. Mentally, she grasped for something – anything - that could hold some of what she considered herself together in the moment.  Instead, she loosened the grip her legs had on his waist, let them slide down along his until she was standing on the floor again.

Having solid ground beneath her seemed to ground her a little, though her hands still lay on his shoulders, her forehead still pressed against his. The fact that he wasn’t as tall as some of the others, didn’t tower over her like they did, it helped. Made her feel like they were on more even footing. “You can’t keep kissing me every time I try to kill you, Drake. That’s like, positive reinforcement for a negative behaviour. People will start thinking you like it.” She laughed, but the sound was broken, lost. She was trying to joke, but she wasn’t sure if it was a defence mechanism, or if she was just grasping at straws.

“It beats the hell out of us both trying to kill one another.” His face held a smirk, but his tone was gentle, and Rose felt the urge to strike out against that tenderness. He was managing her and her emotions, again, but she didn’t know how to stop it. The young assassin wasn’t even sure if she should make him stop. “And I’m glad you’re starting to realize trying to kill me is a negative behavior. That alone should get you another kiss for positive reinforcement.” He gave her a goofy grin, but despite his words, he didn’t move to kiss her. He didn’t move away either, and she could almost admit to enjoying the intimacy of them just standing close, foreheads pressed together. “I’m not going to hurt you. Ever. I know talk is cheap, Rose. Just have a bit of faith in me.”

Faith. Such a simple little thing, but it was as if Drake was asking for the world. When was the last time Rose had faith in anyone? A bitter smile turned up the corner of her lips. Before Eddie died. On that damned fucking rooftop. She had been so certain of him, of them. She’d risked so much, put herself out there, asked him to leave with her, and he had turned her down. His faith in her hadn’t matched her faith in him. What had happened after, with Will and the human trafficking ring, with the almost dying in Siberia, and Eddie’s Grand Sacrifice, that had shown her what fallout from misplaced faith could do.

Still, that was a long time ago, and she had been a different person back then. More fragile. Softer. That moment had done a lot towards hardening her shell, making her stronger, tougher. The loss of Eddie had given her the strength she needed to survive, even as it left an aching, empty hole at her centre. She hadn’t really let anyone in close since then. Pulling her face away from Tim, she looked at him, really looked at him. He wasn’t the little boy she’d fooled around with to get under Sandsmark’s skin any more than she was that angry punk with a chip on her shoulder. They’d both gotten older, maybe even wiser. He was stronger now. Whatever he’d been through, it showed in the hard planes of his face as clearly as the scars on her body told their own tale.

She leaned in, placing a surprisingly gentle kiss on his cheek, and then disentangled herself. For now, she felt peaceful. Whether that would last was anybody’s bet, but she knew where she’d put her money. “You never did like doing anything the easy way, Wonder Boy. Let’s get to Jaybird’s before I either strip you down in this stairwell, or drag you back upstairs to throw you off the roof.” There was no heat left in her voice, the fire raging inside her stoked for a moment, while she tried to decide if she would let one shattering moment from her past decide her whole fucking future. Maybe she hadn’t made him any promises, but she hadn’t turned him down either. Hopefully that would be good enough, at least for a little while longer.


	32. Chapter 32

“I’ll vote the former, if you’re looking for advice.” She suppressed the urge to laugh. It didn’t matter what was going on, he always had to crack a joke. At least she wasn’t the only one trying to diffuse the intensity of the moment. Tim moved past her on the platform, vaulting over the railing, landing on the stairs below. “Race you to the bottom?” Moving quickly, he dashed down the stairs. It’s only seven floors and he has a head-start, but she smirks to herself. Cute that he thinks he might win even this. “Winner picks where we get lunch.”

For half a second, she almost considers letting him win. She didn’t really care where or what they ate, after all. Of course, she was way too competitive to actually allow that, so with a flip of her hair, she took a few steps back from the railing. Mentally she calculated distances, weighing it against what she knew of her own durability. Then, without actually acknowledging she was down to compete, she ran the few steps and launched herself over the edge after Drake. Not looking to see what he was doing, or where he was going, she whirled around, immediately tossing herself down another set of stairs, feeling that pleasant tug as her shoulders took the brunt of the force of landing.

Unable to resist, she tossed her head back and laughed, an exultant little sound that barely carried in the confined space. Usually if she was monkeying around like this she was in pursuit of a target, she never thought of doing it just for _fun_. She used to have fun. Used to tease and play around, for the enjoyment of it, not for the achievement of specific goals. She’d gotten out of the habit of engaging in anything that wasn’t work. She’d never admit it, but she was grateful to Tim for reminding her that there was so much more to life than work. If all she lived for was to not let Slade find her, then he won. Speaking of, while she was woolgathering she was giving Tim an edge. Standing up from her perch, she threw herself down some more stairs, aiming at yet another railing as she did. She’d be sore in the morning, but it was all worth it.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Tim smile as he spun around another landing, two floors to go. It was a confident expression, he like he knew he had this. Her feet thudded loudly, letting him know she was going to win this as she landed right behind him. She was, after all, literally throwing herself down the stairs. In this to win was the only way she could function. Drake crowded to the interior side of the stairwell, glancing down. Hopping up on the railing, he let himself fall over the edge, twisting in the air.  She blew him a kiss as she sailed past him. Her feet hit the bottom landing a fraction of a second before his, but that was enough.

Laughing in triumph, Rose massaged her shoulder, working the strain of throwing herself off landings from the muscles. Her face was glowing with both exertion, and enjoyment, a rare, unchecked smile dancing across her features. Turning to Tim she throws her arm over his shoulders, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Wonder Boy, I won’t tell anyone you lost a race to a girl, even when you had a head start.” Chuckling and shaking her head, she set him free from her embrace, walking towards the exit with a bounce in her step. She had enjoyed every moment of both the competition, more like playing, and the victory.

As she passed through the door to the lobby of the Planet, her whole demeanor changed. The smile vanished, replaced by an impassive expression of mild disinterest. Her eye flickered over the crowd, gauging threat levels, and examined every window and door in her visual range. The bounce left her step, her body tense, coiled and wary. Idly she wondered if there was something wrong with her, that she could let happiness leech out of her very being in an instant the way she did. Part of her wanted to look back over her shoulder, to look at Drake, who she knew would be following, but she resisted. That would be more than weakness on her part, that would be letting all these people, whoever they were, know about the weakness.

Just the want to turn and see him made that anger bubble up inside her once more. An internal voice that sounded suspiciously like her father called her every kind of fool. Maybe she was being foolish. With an effort, shown through little more than the tension in her shoulders and the furious glare on her face, she pushed the voice down inside, let it simmer in her central pit of rage. Maybe she was a fool, but didn’t she deserve a chance? Who gave a shit what Slade would have though about this scenario, she knew damn well Eddie would have been fucking proud of her. When it came down to people who were important in her life, she knew whose opinion actually mattered more, no matter how much that broken little girl inside her wanted Daddy’s approval. Eddie had given a shit, and that gave his opinion far more weight. Maybe.

That was too deep for this time of day, or any time of day really. Shaking it all off she marched out of the building and around to where she’d left her bike. Just seeing it eased a little more of her tension. This was hers. She was in control. Finally, she allowed herself to look back and check for Drake. Not because she had to, but because she had arrived at the objective, and it was prudent to wait for the rest of the team to do the same. It was all tidy and sensible. No emotions. She gave Tim a tight smile. “Off to the zombie’s place, and then I sure hope you like Ethiopian, because I’m in the mood for eating with my hands.”


	33. Chapter 33

“Ethiopian? I could definitely go for some injera.” He grabbed the hideous orange helmet that she had begun to think of as his, sliding it on as she mounted the bike. Slipping on the bike behind her, he wrapped his arms around her - gesture that is becoming more familiar and intimate each time. “I’m guessing you know a place?” She simply nodded as she started up the bike, accelerating into traffic where they were greeted by a couple blaring horns and the screech of brakes.

Ten minutes later, she was lazily driving the bike up and down the streets of Suicide Slum. To any observer, they probably would look lost, but she was checking for a tail. When Rose was satisfied that no one was following them, she accelerated again, moving over a block before pulling into a blind alley. Parking the bike, she motioned towards a boarded up door. Last time she was down this way that was the entrance to Jason’s safe house. She had helped him complete the disguise… more specifically, she had trashed the front end in a fit of temper, but Drake probably didn’t need to hear about her torrid affair with a man he considered his brother. Whatever it was they were doing together, it was different. Jay had been physical, whether he wanted more or not, that was all he had been to her. Tim was… Tim was something she wasn’t going to think about right now.

If she hadn’t known what to look for, they would have been standing there all day. As it was, it took Wonder Boy a minute to find the keypad. Flipping the faux brick up, he found the keypad. She watched curiously as he closed his eyes, fingers drifting over the numbers. 12509. The keypad beeped angrily. 31280. A soft chime, followed by a click. Tim pressed the rotted 2x4 and the whole door swung towards him. Pulling the door open, he motioned for Rose to go first. She couldn’t help but offer him a small smile as she passed, the barest hint of approval that barely covered how impressed she actually was. Somehow, he kept surprising her.

Stepping past Drake as he continued to examine the security system, she took in the safe house and almost laughed again. It looked… almost exactly the way it had the last time she’d been here. Everyone assumed Todd was a slob, what with his attitude and everything, but the safe house was neat as a pin. Three leather jackets hung neatly from pegs near the door. Three pairs of combat and bike boots neatly beneath them. On the pass-through, a red helmet glared balefully at the intruders, and Rose patted the top of it affectionately, tipping it aside to pull the pack of cigarettes she knew would be there out from under it and pocketing them. Kicking off her own shoes somewhere in the vicinity of the mat, she continued on into the main room, dropping her saddlebags and plopping down onto the futon, before stretching out to examine the locked gun safe neatly hidden away beneath it. Locking the door, Tim took the extra precaution of sliding a chair in front of it, which Rose thoroughly approved of. He walked around, examining the equipment and décor. There wasn’t much to see, the place was both utilitarian and efficient.

Feet kicking in the air above her as she dangled over the side of the couch, she stopped messing with the dial to look up at Drake as he came in behind her, she gave him a lopsided grin. Behind the walls of the safe house, that constant paranoia she bore melted away. Did it take less time now than it used to? She wasn’t one to speculate, but she had trusted Tim to secure the entryway, the need to go check and recheck the locks strangely absent. She pointed to the small kitchenette. “If you want a pre-lunch snack, you can give a look over there, but last time I was through he didn’t keep much beyond beer, whiskey, and Twinkies in stock.”

She pulled a face and rolled off the couch, giving up on the gun safe for now she grabbed her saddlebags. Sitting on the floor she began pulling out things and dropping them on the floor around her. Soon she was surrounded by several wrinkled t-shirts, a pair of skin tight jeans, a pair of leather pants, a little black dress, two pairs of bright red stockings, one Converse sneaker, a silk floral scarf, a baby pink sundress printed with roses, and a blue and white striped pair of denim overalls. Pursing her lips she considered the selection, picking up the sneaker and frowning at it. “I could have sworn there were two of these in here when I packed the fucking thing…”

Drake turned to the kitchenette and found it pretty much as Rose had predicted, though he did dig up some beef jerky and a couple of bags of long expired pizza flavored Combos. Grabbing the beef jerky he walked back in the room to find Rose searching for her other shoe. Flopping on the futon, he offered up the bag of beef jerky. She scrunched her nose, but took a piece, sticking it in her mouth as she kept searching for the other shoe. Grabbing his phone, Drake checked his email. He looked up to tell her what he’d gotten to find her still fussing with her clothes, but there was something different about her. She was relaxed, almost completely at ease. The worry lines usually around her eyes were gone. The hint of a smile on her lips. He’d always thought she was pretty, but this was the most beautiful he’d ever seen her. He cleared his throat a bit.

“Good news, I got the file I need to try to figure out what those symbols are. Hopefully by tonight.” Slipping his phone back in his pocket he offered her a smile. “So grab lunch and walk the neighborhood? See what trouble we can get into?”


	34. Chapter 34

Rose had scooted under the couch in search of her shoe, the piece of jerky hanging out of her mouth as her hair fell around her face, and allowed a smile to spread across her face, echoing the one on Drake’s. For the moment, she knew she was safe. They were on the trail of the bad guys, they had a few moments to themselves, and her father couldn’t get to them. For the briefest moment, she let herself imagine what they could have between them if this was how it always was. For a second, it was a happy trip through the imagination, followed by the crushing realization that she was being unrealistic.

This was a stolen moment. Her life was death and violence and paranoia. Which meant, at least in her mind, that she had to cherish this time while she had it. Banishing the dark thoughts from her mind, she chewed thoughtfully on the beef jerky, pulling the half-eaten piece out of her mouth and waving it dramatically at Tim as she rolled onto her back, half sticking out from under the couch. “Mister Drake, I think perhaps you have an unhealthy obsession with food.” She teased, the grin she wore lighting up her whole face for once. “If we keep to your feeding schedule, you are going to have to roll me to the next job.”

“I love food.” He laughed. “I don’t think there’s anything unhealthy about that. Unless we eat at Reggie’s place again.” He shook his head, smirking at the memory. “Seriously though, my metabolism is off the charts sometime.” He shrugged, the gesture almost apologetic.

She made a pitiful attempt to toss her stale jerky at his head, though the angle was wrong and she couldn’t get a good swing out of it from her place sprawled on the floor in the midst of her costumes. The damp piece of dried meat fell back on her face with a splat, and she laughed, a sound that was dangerously close to a giggle, though she would vehemently deny it if Tim was déclassé enough to point it out. Picking it off her face and wiping the smudge of gross from her cheek, she rolled over and crawled the rest of the way out from under the futon, the trail end of the giggles escaping her. “I still can’t find my damn shoe either.”

The fact she laughed and brushed off the jerky incident clearly surprised him, though judging by his face it was in a good way. He had clearly at least half-expected her to start shutting down, but she had just rolled with it, enjoying the humor in the situation. She did have a sense of humour, though his surprise was almost enough to kill it again. Had she really become that much of a killjoy? She grimaced at the tacky laminate floor. Probably.

“Could you have left it at the hotel?” Remembering the way she had spread some of her things out in the defensive perimeter of the room she pondered, but did not actively recall seeing her shoes. Tim got down on the floor with her, crawling around on all fours, looking for the missing sneaker. “I can hear Gar in my head, ‘How many Titans does it take to find Rose’s shoe? All of us, cause someone’s going to get stabbed if we don’t’.”  He picked up one of the discarded saddlebags and gave it a shake. The missing shoe and a crumpled protein bar dropped out. Grabbing the shoe, he held it out to her.

“Yeah, Gar was always good for the jokes about me being stabby, which is totally unfair. I never even stabbed him once.” She tried to keep it light, but it was an old wound, one that had shaped the way she interacted with people for a long time, and she was still sore about it all. She watched him shake her saddlebags as she continued. “I mean, Raven’s dad was literally a soul-sucking demon from hell, but nobody hounded her ass about becoming evil like the old pater familias. Oh no, she was just peachy. Clearly sweetness and light under that gloomy and introverted exterior. But that Wilson girl with the swords, she was the source of all evil just waiting to be unleashed.” Fuck. That was a lot of bitter oozing out of her mouth, and perhaps more emotional revelations than she wanted to hand over to Drake just yet. Or ever.

The shoe dropped to the floor and Tim held it out, and Rose took advantage of the opportunity to change the subject. Half-lunging at him from where she was sprawled on the floor, she grabbed the shoe, throwing her other arm around his neck and planting an enthusiastic kiss on his far-too-tempting lips. “Thanks Wonder Boy, you really are the greatest detective of your age… our age.” She bent in to kiss him again, hoping to drive the stupid emotional outburst she had just had from his mind. It was a sad ploy, but had the benefit of allowing her to justify kissing him again, something she’d been thinking about more than she was willing to admit.

His arms slipped around her waist and her lips twisted into a half grin. Whatever thoughts had been rattling around that ultra smart brain of his, they were clearly blown out. There was a fierce surge of pride associated that, of longing. She channeled all that longing, all that loneliness clinging to her from the memories of being in the Titans, into the kiss. She nipped at his lips, first tugging at his top lip, then his bottom lip, demanding he part them so she could sweep her tongue inside. Dancing it along his teeth, before pressing her tongue against his own. Her hands went up to cup his cheek, tilting her head further to change the angle as she teased the tip of his tongue with her own. She pressed her body against his, as if she could just melt into his chest beneath her, her hips grinding needily against his own.

She pulled away slowly, drawing his bottom lip with her, nipping it one last time as she looked down on him, her face and neck slightly flushed, two parts passion, one part embarrassment. Her hair formed a curtain around their faces, shielding them from the outside world, even if it was just the crummy inside of Jason’s safe house. She hovered above him, hands resting on his chest so that she wouldn’t tumble forward, and just… looked at him for a moment, soaking in the moment, trying to convey with her eye all the things she hadn’t said to him, wouldn’t say, couldn’t say.

Again Rose found herself mentally cursing, herself, her father, the handsome bastard she had just been kissing. She didn’t live in a world that leant itself to promises, and she wouldn’t make him a promise she couldn’t guarantee she would keep. That in itself, was more telling than she was willing to deal with. Dipping her head again, she placed small, butterfly kisses all over his face. The tip of his nose, those dashing cheekbones, his forehead, his chin, and then allowed herself another taste of his lips, just because they were, for the moment, safe. This kiss was gentler, softer, over almost as quick as the ones she had dusted across his face. She offered him a small smile, just the merest hint at the corner of her lips. “So you were asking about lunch, right…?”


	35. Chapter 35

Drake looked up at her, his grin goofy. She could tell that there were words he wanted to say, but he kept them to himself and she rewarded that with her own small smile. She could read what he meant in every movement of his body, in his ever-expressive face. She was a hunter, she knew how to read people. It’s why they were here. Why she was so at ease with him. Words would just screw things up, and she was glad that he seemed to understand that.

“Yeah, lunch.” He ventured, sounding like he’d rather stay here at the safe house. In all honesty, she didn’t want them to leave here either. They could spend all day here just like this and she’d be happy, but duty called. People would get hurt if they shirked their responsibility. “You mentioned Ethiopian? I’m guessing you know a place?”

Rose offered Tim one last smile, placing her hand on his forehead and pushing him back down as she wriggled off of him, extricating their tangled limbs from one another. “Of course I know a place. Don’t I always?” She had never shared this much of her information network with another person. It had taken years to establish trust with some of her contacts, but she’d picked them carefully. Immigrants, thieves, information brokers… but no drug dealers. Nobody who truly thrived off of causing pain to other people. There were flaws in the system, and some of the links in her information chain were less savory, but mostly, they were good people who knew when to keep their eyes open.

Reggie had been the first, and he was special to her, but the man could take care of himself. She gave Drake a long, assessing look. What was it about her former team mate that made her want to trust him with her secrets? She shrugged. “It’s called Berbere House. I know the head chef there. He makes a mean kitfo.” She stood, pulling off her gear, trading it out for some of the civilian clothes she’d dragged from the pits of her saddlebags. “He’s not like Reggie though. Daniel is…” Daniel Adebayo was many things, but it wasn’t her place to tell his secrets. If he wished for her companion to know what they were, he would tell him.

Instead she shrugged, flopping back onto the futon to wriggle the skin tight jeans over her hips, exhaling as she tugged up the zipper. It was almost time for new pants, if the way these strained across her hips was any indication. She shrugged, then cast a quick glance at Tim from beneath lowered lashes. Fuck. She was probably going to have to _pay_ for new pants too, since she was sure he wouldn’t be on board with her casual disregard for the propriety rights of large chain stores. She sat back up, sniffing a pair of t-shirts and holding them up to examine. One was plain and pink, with capped sleeves, the other mid-riff length in a soft green, with a bright yellow smiley face on it. She smiled, fond memories dancing through her head. Decision made she tossed the pink shirt at Tim and slid into the green one. “All right then, let’s get a move on.”

Catching the pink shirt, it was clear from his expression that he had no idea why she threw it at him. He smirked at her and she shook his head. She wasn’t sure why she threw it at him either, other than the general enjoyment of tossing things at Timothy Drake’s dumb head. The weirdo actually folded the shirt, as if she wasn’t just going to cram it back into the saddlebag, maybe even the one he carefully placed it on top of. "Good to go, Rose?"

As she finished getting ready, he unlocked and slowly opens the front door leading out, glancing about. She was pleased to note that her caution was rubbing off on him. Once they were both content that the coast was clear, Rose joined him while he keyed in the code, re-arming the safe house. Moving to the bike, Tim grabbed their helmets, handing her the navy one, happily donning the orange one. She paused for a moment, just watching him as he buckled on the bright orange monstrosity. Emotion tingled in her stomach, something soft and unfamiliar. With a shake of her head she tamped it down, suppressing it with the iron will she was getting a reputation for. What had happened in the safe house wouldn’t happen out here. It was far too dangerous.

She gave the bike a quick once over, caving to the paranoia that was so much a part of her daily life lately. Everything seemed to be in working order, no trackers or explosives. As content as she could be, she mounted up the bike, waiting patiently while Drake got on behind her. When his arms slid around her waist in what was quickly becoming a familiar maneuver, a small voice in her head chimed _Right_. Apprehension rippled through her as she fought back against herself. This was a team up, a temporary arrangement, and maybe a little slap and tickle to blow off steam. She couldn’t afford to give him anything else. She couldn’t risk him…

She revved the bike, drowning out her own conflicting thoughts as she tore away from the curb and roared down the street. She needed speed and wind and noise to clear her chattering mind. She had no metre stick to measure this whole endeavor against. Was this normal, for relationships between people like them? Not that they had a relationship, or were going to, but still… With her bike rumbling beneath her and his arms around her waist, that horrid little voice in her head whispered _But you want one._

It didn’t take long to cross over to the area of town they were going to stake out today. Right at the edge of the district sat the Berbere House. A squat building made of red plaster with a corrugated aluminum roof, it didn’t look like much, but the sounds from inside were lively. Through the windows and open door it was clear the small restaurant was packed, with groups spilling out onto the tiny patio, crowding around small tables. The tables were laden with food, the smell of spices clear even above the general reek of a large city. Folks talked animatedly with their hands, scooping up stews and curries with their injera.

Lifting off her helmet, Rose’s eye drifted across the crowd, assessing. Content, she dismounted, clipping the helmet to the handlebars, giving Drake a chance to do the same before she led him inside. The pair moved smoothly through the dining area, and directly into the kitchen, no one stopping them as they progressed. At the door of the kitchen Rose paused, leaning against the wall and watching the scene with a small smile. Three women and two men moved around the spotless kitchen, stirring pots, tending to the oven, prepping plates. At the far side a thin man tended to a large bowl-shaped frying pan, hands drifting over bowls of spices. One of the women scurried over to him, grasping his elbow lightly and whispering into his ear.

He turned to them, a soft smile on his face, one that Rose echoed. Though the man might have been handsome once, his face was crossed by a mass of scars, his eyes filmed over and blind. The scars travelled down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar, and extending along the length of one lightly muscled forearm, which Rose gripped when he extended his hand out to her. “I did not expect you again so soon, ābeba. I have not spoken to the bees yet this week.”

Rose released his hand, placing hers on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about the bees, Daniel. I brought a friend to try the best doro wat in town.” At her mention of a friend, his head tilted to one side, what might have been a frown warping the scarred tissue of his face. “He is another beekeeper of a sort. I would not have brought him if I did not trust him to keep our secrets.” Going up on tiptoe she kissed the dark-skinned man’s cheek, whispering something in his ear. Nodding to the white haired assassin, he turned to Tim and offered his hand.

“Apologies, we do not get many visitors to the kitchen.”


End file.
